


Not So Harmless

by A_Winter



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No One Ring, Company assumes she is male, F/M, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Domestic Violence, Please Don't Hate Me, all the things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:25:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 47,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11269830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Winter/pseuds/A_Winter
Summary: Based off "Just a Harmless, Little Bunny... Right?" by MumbleBARKBelba Baggins has spent years trying her best to be silent and invisible, just what Gandalf is looking for in a burglar! However he specific skill set and need to escape the confines of the Shire have less to do with her Tookish nature and more to do with escaping her demons. After losing her parents young, Belba was forced to be a respectable Baggins and marry. But wedded bliss was never on the cards for our Hobbit, after killing her husband in self-defense she is forever changed.Haunted by her past and the stigma attached to her actions Belba becomes a hermit and hides away while secretly waiting to be run out of the Shire entirely.Will Belba find the peace she'd looking for or perhaps learn to truly accept who she'd always been? And what of dark, brooding, stone headed Dwarves? Can Belba learn to trust again, to put her life in someone else's hands again?





	1. Many ways to hurt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Demon_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demon_chan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Just a Harmless, Little Bunny... Right?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/906497) by [MumbleBARK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MumbleBARK/pseuds/MumbleBARK). 



Pain was something Belba Baggins was well acquainted with, more so than the average Hobbit should be but then not a soul in the Shire would consider Belba an Average Hobbit… Not anymore anyway. 

Belba had been young when the Fell Winter hit, teaching her the truth of hardship. Winters in the Shire had always been mild but not that year, that year the child was relentless but their ignorance was the Shire’s biggest regret. None had expected such a harsh or long winter so appropriate supplies were not stored and rationing was introduced too late, starvation, illness and practically feral wolves lay siege to the Hobbits and claimed many lives including Belba’s father. The Fell Winter taught Belba the pain of the body and the soul as grief struck their family but the worst was yet to come. 

After the loss of her father Belba’s mother, Belladonna Took-Baggins, began the slow and painful process of fading. Belba was forced to watch, barely a tween and years yet from her majority, as her mother slowly wasted away. Belladonna held on as long as she could but before long she was bed ridden, unable to care for herself and incapable of caring for her daughter. That was when the families stepped in. 

Being a Hobbit meant having a large and often overbearing family, being a Baggins meant having no say as said overbearing family moved themselves into Bagend to care for Belba and her mother. 

Belba was only 30 when her mother finally passed away, she was returned to the earth in a simply ceremony but Belba remembered little of it. What she did remember came in flashes of disjointed conversations and memories as her family decided what to do with her. Belba was too close to her majority for another family to adopt her and move in to Bagend but she was too young and deemed too vulnerable to be left alone. That’s how it was decided that Belba should be married. 

Arranged marriages were not unheard of within Hobbit society but nor were they exactly common, even less so where a Hobbit is not yet at their majority and has no say in the spouse but that’s how it was for Belba. She met her groom-to-be merely days before the wedding and spoke not a word to him until they were exchanging vows. He was a handsome enough Hobbit, taller than Belba and appropriately portly but he came from what was considered a lesser family. He was a very distant relative by marriage on the Sackville-Baggins side so it was decided that he would take on the Baggins name and move in with Belba. Not usually the practice but as she was considered a young heiress an exception was made. Tobias however was a very proud Hobbit and didn’t appreciate the way other Hobbits considered his new bride to be more than him in every way. More respectable, more wealthy, more attractive, simply more and so Tobias Baggins felt it was his right as Belba’s husband to put her in what he considered her place. 

Belba was too young to realise what was happening as she became house bound on her new Husband’s orders, as he took control of her house and her money slowly but surely isolating her from her friends and family. Tobias also wanted children, children to reinforce his place as head of the house and to bolster his position within the Baggins family but try as he might, and he tried plenty, he could not get Belba with child. Tobias was not a gentle husband so it stood to reason he was not a gentle lover, the more desperate he became the rougher he grew. Some days Belba was glad she was not allowed to leave Bagend, at least it meant that she would be spared the pitying glances or demanding interrogations as her fellow Hobbits saw her bruises. 

The years passed in a blur for Belba, Tobias began drinking more, shouting more and lashing out more but Belba tried to take it all in stride, tried to do her duty as a wife but it was a struggle; at least until the incident just short of ten years after they exchanged vows. 

Tobias came home late one night, he’d been drinking with his friends at the Green Dragon and Belba had been at home waiting with his dinner. He came barrelling drunkenly through the door, shouting and singing as she swayed precariously through the smial. Belba was sitting at the dining table, as was expected of her, cold meal untouched while waiting for Tobias to return. Seeing her husband’s drunken state Belba lost her apetite and began to clear the food from the table as Tobias stomped into the pantry in search of more ale, he was not pleased when he found the cask empty. 

The drunken Hobbit trapped his wife in the kitchen, shouting at Belba as she filled the sink and began to wash the dishes. 

“Where’s the ale wench…” Tobias slurred, shaking his empty tankard. 

“You drank it all Tobias, that’s why you went to the tavern. The weekly delivery is due tomorrow, there will be more then.” Belba said with a sigh, she was so very tired. She tried not to flinch as she felt Tobias’s hands pulling her away from the sink. 

“Well if there’s no ale to be had then you’d best keep me entertained like a good little wife” Tobias had a feral look on his face as he pulled Belba in for a rough, wet kiss. The smell of alcohol made the young Hobbit lass want to throw up, she thought that she probably would have if she’d eaten anything past breakfast that day. Soap covered hands pushed uselessly against the body before her as Belba turned away from the kiss. 

“Please stop Tobias, you’ve been drinking and I’ve chores…” Belba didn’t get to finish her protest as her Husband’s hand made contact with her face. 

“If I wanted ye’ ta talk lass I’d ‘ave told ye’ to.” He growled, grabbing Belba by the shoulders and shaking her. 

Belba wanted to cry out, the pain radiating from her cheek and from Tobias’s grip on her arms throbbing through her smaller frame but she knew from experience the more noise she made the worse his reaction. So Belba tried to do what she always did when Tobias got like this, she tried to shut down and let her mind go blank. However it seemed this time Tobias was sober enough to notice the blankness of her expression so he struck her again and again until she came back to herself and the pain of her reality. 

“Ye’ think I’ll let ye run away from me? I own you Belba Baggins” he spat her name as though it were a slur, as though it felt filthy on his tongue. “Until death do us part sweetheart… though perhaps I should do something about that, you’re not as comely as you were and what use is a barren spouse.” 

“Tobias what are you saying?” Belba cried, falling out of his slackened grip and against the sink, her hands reaching out to steady herself. 

“I’m young enough to remarry and with Bagend to call my own I’d have my pick of the pretty young lasses” A wicked glint in his eye the Hobbit stepped forward threateningly, hands reaching for Belba’s throat. “I could make it look like an accident, or suicide. No one’s seen you in long enough, they wouldn’t question it…”  
Belba reached behind her, hands seeking something with which to defend herself. Her desperately grasping hand came in to contact with chilled metal and just as Tobias lunged forward Belba pulled her hands in front of her cradling the carving knife she’d used for dinner against her sternum. Belba fell against the sink with the force of Tobias’s weight against her, forcing her to release the knife and instead grasp his hands around her throat. Belba tried to struggle against him, kicked out and tried to scream but she couldn’t get enough air. Absently she felt a damp warmth spreading across her chest, probably her lungs finally giving in but then the grip around her throat slackened enough that she could take a large breath and Belba screamed. Screamed in a way that she’d always longed to but had been too afraid to do, she screamed like her life depended on it, even as clumsy hands tried to cover her mouth, because this time it did. 

Tobias was glaring at her and pulling her down to the ground with his weight alone as Belba heard banging on the door, desperate calls of her name from the familiar voices of her neighbour Hamfast and Bell Gamgee. 

“Please, help me!” Belba screamed as loudly as she could “He’s going to kill me…” Those hands were around her throat again but this time the previous strength was lacking but Tobias’s weight on her body was enough to limit her breathing ability and the wet warmth was spreading further each second. Until suddenly his weight was pulled of her.

Belba’s vision swap as her lungs finally got enough air, she saw Tobias being held back by Hamfast and his brother Halfred as Bell fell to her knees beside Belba but Beba’s eyes were fixated on the blossoming red stain over Tobias’s shirt and the handle of her carving knife sticking out from his stomach, just below his ribs. As though in a trance Belba forced herself onto her feet, it was like being submerged underwater as she walked to Tobias despite the unheard warnings of those around her and grasped the knife. With what felt to her as incredible slowness but in reality took less than a moment she pulled the knife out and dropped it to the ground only to watch the red stain spread. Bell tried to run for a healer but Belba’s bloody hand on her wrist stopped her, Bella turned away but Belba watched as the Gamgee brothers lowered her slowly dying husband. 

“Best call the watch” Belba said softly with a tired smile to the Gamgees, “I’ll put the kettle on” 

The brothers left with a concerned look to Bell who merely nodded and waited with Belba, watching the broken lass as she put together a perfect tea service while stepping over her husband’s bleeding body careless of the blood on her hands or feet.


	2. The Scarlet Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belba's punishment and Gandalf's Dwarves...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left Kudos and Comments, you are all amazing!!!! <3

Violence was not common in the Shire and so they had little call for the punishments of men, this being the case they had little idea of what to do with Belba after the death of her husband. Though it was common knowledge, because everything in the Shire was common knowledge, that Belba acted in self-defence after years of abuse, that Tobias had been witness on serval occasion gloating about his control of his wife and lamenting her apparent barrenness while drunk no Hobbit in the Shire wanted a Murderess as a neighbour. The watch had taken Tobias away and he’d been returned to the earth in a simple ceremony which Belba refused to attend, much to the relief of his family and hers. Some in the Shire demanded Belba be punished for her crime, mostly the Sacville-Bagginses if truth be told, others demanded leniency due to her vulnerable age and fragile state of mind, the Baggins’ and Tooks’. While others simply wanted to forget the incident ever happened. It was decided that while Belba had acted in self-preservation she needed to acknowledge her actions. It was thus decided that Belba should wear a mark of her actions, not as harsh as the brandings which happened in the towns of men but with the same outcome. Belba was to forever wear the Hobbit symbol for death on her clothes and around her neck her as a Murderess. 

Broken Belba Baggins took the punishment in stride, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, and she sewed the symbol into every article of clothing she owned so that those around her would never forget what she had suffered or what she had done. The bronze necklace, practically a collar, was delivered the following morning at it was expected that she should never remove it. It shielded her from the Shire as her body and her mind slowly began to heal but what worked on the Shire had very little effect on travelling, mischief causing, firework making, infuriating Wizards. 

Belba was sitting on her front bench enjoying a well-deserved smoke, a rare occurrence, after having braved the marketplace to restock her pantry and larder. Still dressed in her market clothes with her brand for all to see, worn with a small degree of pride and a large amount of resignation or at least that was what anyone looking at her would have thought. Belba took a deep breath and blew out a perfect smoke right, the old Toby calming her nerves. Hobbit women were not supposed to smoke, some did but not the respectable ones. Belba’s mother always had but Tobias wouldn’t allow it of Belba, now that there was no one to stop her she found the practice quite relaxing at least until smoke butterflies hit her in the face causing her to splutter unattractively. 

“Good morning?” Belba says questioningly to the hooded figure standing before her. Too large to be a man and yet not of the same build and aura as elves. The stranger looked at Belba curiously with eyes that saw far too much, his gaze wondering to the emblem on herneck and vest, the same marking embroidered around the hem of her skirt. Though he made no mention of it his eyes shone with sadness and understanding, Belba knew her bruises had long since faded but felt as though every single one was visible under his scrutiny. 

“What do you mean?” He voice was as sad a knowing as his eyes, familiar in an unexpected way, “Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?” Another pointed look at her mark before a suspicious “Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”

Belba harrumphs and straightens her skirt to avoid answering but the stranger simply stands in wait. “Can I help you?” she demands a bit waspishly, she had not felt so exposed since the night of Tobias’s death when she’d been examined by the Shire healer and every injury, new and old, was appropriately catalogued. 

“That remains to be seen.” He looked at her again and Belba felt her heart jump, “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

“An Adventure?” Belba gasped, her heart pounding in a way it hadn’t in years. 

The stranger hummed, "I don't imagine you know anybody west of Bree who might be interested? It is most splendid adventure for a most noble cause."

Belba felt her face flush and her feet itch, what a wonderful idea but her brain spoke before her heart “No, certainly not. No Hobbit in their right mind would join you for an adventure; nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner…” Belba got to her feet, even as the stranger responded.

“Well are you?” and Belba felt a part of her perfectly constructed armour crack as her hand unconsciously tightened around her bronze collar, feeling as though the metal was choker her as her husband’s hands once had. 

Broken Belba Baggins, murderess of the Shire; in her right mind? Surely not!

“Good morning.” Belba croaked, absently grabbing the mail from her mailbox and turning to flee. 

“To think that I should have lived to be ‘goodmorninged’ by Belladonna Took’s child, as if I were selling buttons at the door. You’ve changed, and not entirely for the better, Belba Baggins” 

Belba flinch but stopped her body tense as her memories cleared and provided her a name from a time long ago. “I’m sure most of the Shire would agree with you there Gandalf.”

“Well, I’m pleased to find you finally remember me, well that’s decided. It will be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.” Before Belba can do much more than splutter indignantly the Wizard is gone. Confused Belba retreats to her smial and does what any stressed Hobbit female does, she began to bake. 

By the time evening rolled round Belba was covered in flour, eggs and various other ingredients but she’d cooked enough to feed a militia. Running a hand through her messy curls she began to separate various foods into baskets with the intention to take them to her neighbours, the Gamgees as they had a small army of faunts to feed. What she hadn’t been expecting, as she wrapped the last basket, was a knock on the door. Tutting at the state of her clothes Belba walked to the door, opened it and looked up, and up and then up some more. Standing before her door was some kind of partially shaved bear!

“Ahhh…”

“Dwalin, at your service.” Said the bear as it bowed its head slightly. Shellshocked, Bebla let out a soft noise, gripping the edges of her skirt.

“Belba Baggins, at yours?” Then the bear creature was walking inside “D-do we know each other?” she studdered, for surely she’d remember meeting a shaved, tattoes bear who carried axes…

“No.” He scoffed, looking at her in a way that reminder her too much of Tobias, “Which way, laddie? Is it down here?” He started walking down the hall and Belba was left to close the door and run after him. 

“Laddie…?” She mutters “I-is what down where?” Belba found her arms suddenly full of her unexpected guest’s gear.

“Supper. He said there’d be food, and lots of it.”

“H-He said? Who said?” Suddenly visions of a meddlesome wizard filled Belba’s mind “Gandalf…”

“That’s ‘im. Though I would have thought you’d be a bit more prepared laddie, inviting thirteen Dwarves and a Wizard to dinner is no small feat.” Dwalin had found his way to the kitchen and Belba’s neatly packaged food. 

“Thirteen?” she cried, automatically slapping his hand away from the baskets. “I’m not ready for Thirteen Dwarves for dinner, I wasn’t expecting company!” She got nothing more than an unhappy grunt from the Dwarf, not a bear then, at her exclamation. 

“Right… panicking isn’t going to help anyone… I best start cooking some more, would you mind setting the dining room up to fit you and your friends?” When the Dwarf merely glared at her again Belba pulled a large cookie out from the basket he’d been aiming for and handed it over with a “Thank you” The large Dwarf, now clearly feeling obligated stomped away to do her bidding but not before demolishing the cookie. 

“Not in my right mind indeed…” Belba muttered to herself as she continued to cook and tidy up preparing for unexpected guests. 

By the time there was another knock to the door Belba had fresh loaves of bread in the oven and a rather hearty stew on the boil as well as everything she’d already made plated and ready to serve, a silly smile on her face. Hobbits loved company by nature and it had been far too long for Belba. 

She opened the door to a wise and kindly looking dwarf whose hair was entirely white.

"Balin," he said, bowing low with his arms spread, "At your service."

"Good evening," she said with a welcoming smile, appreciating the way none of the Dwarves stared at her brandings 

“Yes, yes it is, though I think it might rain later. Am I late?”

“No, not at all. Though I must confess I did not know you were coming so I’m afraid I am. Please make yourself comfortable…”

The elder Dwarf entered but his eyes lit up upon feeing the other Dwarf with his hand in Belba’s cookie jar. “Oh, ha ha! Evening, brother. Heh, heh.”

Belba left the pair to their greetings and ran to get changed; she quickly washed her face and hands of flour and such before shucking off her clothes. 

Belba threw on a simple dress and brushed her unruly hair back into a simple knot, she’d certainly looked better but at least she no longer looked like she wore half her kitchen. She laced up the dress just in time for the doorbell to ring once more. Belba rushed out to open it only to find Balin had let in a pair of knew Dwarves who bowed to her in greeting. 

“Fili”

“And Kili”

“At your service” They spoke together, a mischievous glint in their eyes. 

“You must be Mr. Boggins.” Said the brunette, Kili. 

“No, it’s Baggins and I’m not…” Belba’s protest was cut off as the pair were pulled away and forced to help with the set up. 

Before Belba can continue her protests the doorbell starts to ring again, with a sigh she opens it only to reveal 8 Dwarves collapsing on her door mat and a chuckling Wizard. 

“Gandalf…” she chastises as the Dwarves right themselves and with brief greetings join their comrades in the dining room where the feast was clearly beginning. Belba watched, a bit dazed, as a party erupts around her but she notes that there seems to be a pointedly empty chair. Thinking ahead she pinches some of the food and puts it away for their missing thirteen Dwarf and watched the festivities. There is more life in Bagend at that moment that she’d seen since before the Fell Winter. 

“Gandalf,” Belba questions as she manages to corner the Wizard alone, “Is there a particular reason all these Dwarves seem to think I’m a man?” 

“I’m sure I have no idea Belba,”

“That twinkle in your eye says otherwise Gandalf, I don't know what you have planned with this whole charade but I don't approve and I have yet to even agree to your ridiculous adventure. Fancy springing 14 guests on me unannounced, really Gandalf…" she complained 

He held his hands up and tried to placate her, "Hush now, Belba. It was for your own good, I can see that you’ve smiled more tonight than you have in months. A journey will be good for you, those markings on neck and clothes do not bode well for your life within the Shire. I won’t push for details, not yet, but be conscious of our Dwarven guests. In their culture, women are believed to be too precious to go on adventures as risky as this. They would send you back to what they deem is the safety of the Shire should they know the truth."

Belba huffed, "Ridiculous, the Shire has been anything but safe for me. Even if I don't like it, I don't have much of a choice as it seems you’ve already convinced them somehow." she murmured, "I'm on the verge of being chased out of the Shire anyway, no body want my sort around here.”

Belba considered her options for a moment, "I'll mislead but I shan't lie." she said, her eyes hard, "On this I won't be swayed, Gandalf. If they ask, I'll respond honestly. I will also need some time to pack and settle a few things; on this I may need your help"

“Perfectly reasonable my dear, I shall give you what assistance I can once dinner and such has been taken care of.” Gandalf smiled and a part of Belba wanted to kick him in the shin for it, he’s clearly got exactly what he wanted. 

Anything more Belba had planned to say on the matter was drowned out by a loud and ominous banging at the door. 

“He is here” Belba found she didn’t like the sudden silence in her smial after so much noise, it made her anxious to think of the kind of person who could make such an impact with a simple knock. 

Balba was frozen to the spot, her mind running away with images of who could be at her door, so Gandalf took the initiative and opened the door to reveal an absolutely stunning, if surly, specimen of a Dwarf. 

“Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.” Spoke the Dwarf, his dark hair falling around him in elegant waves.  
“Mark?” Belba squeaked, her brain not quite functioning to full capacity, “There’s no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!”

“There is a mark; I put it there myself. Belba Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Gandalf soothed with his usual wizardy Charm but Belba wasn’t listening, ice blue eyes had turned to Belba and her heart stuttered in her chest. 

“So, this is the Hobbit.” And then it stopped, she’d recognise that tone anywhere. “Tell me, Mr. Baggins, d all Hobbit males dress so impractically? Have you done much fighting, I doubt it by the looks of you?”

“Pardon me?” Belba squeaked, images of blood and bruises coming to mind, hand clenching at her side. 

“Axe or sword? What’s your weapon of choice?”

“Well, I have some skill with a carving knife, if you must know.” Belba spoke past the lump in her throat, ignored the slight widening of Gandalf’s eyes and the score in Master Oakenshield’s. 

“Thought as much, a carving knife indeed. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar Gandalf, you’ve saddled us with a burden that will probably get us all killed. Our quest is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves. The Halfling wouldn’t survive two days without his trinkets and comforts…” The Dwarf finished his dismissal with a disgusted flick to Belba’s collar. By this point however the small Hobbit was shaking, though not with fear as the Dwarf assumed but with rage. 

Tears stung at Belba’s eyes as years of torment and abuse came back to her and it was all she could so to keep her voice level as she spoke through gritted teeth. “Get out of my home.” Her voice was soft but the sound carried in the resulting silence, Gandalf and the Dwarves all turned to her. Thorin Oakenshield merely raising a curious brow at the shaking creature before him. 

“The bunny has a backbone after all…” he laughed but did not make to leave. 

“Get out” Belba said louder, her voice steady as she raised her head and locked eyes with the Dwarf. Her hand reached out, connecting with cool metal sitting conveniently on her glory box where the Dwarves had dumped their weapons. It was a knife that she picked up; she thought she recognised it as one of the knives the blonde Dwarf dumped in her arms. Freshly sharpened if she recalled… 

The air around them was electric as she held the knife in her hand, no one around them dared move but she could hear whispering in a language she didn’t understand from the dining room. 

“Now Belba…” Gandalf tried to sooth but Belba shook her head. 

“I will not be spoken to like this in my own home Gandalf, not again. Get. Him. Out” Belba was so focused on the Dwarf before she did not notice the other coming up behind her, though perhaps she should have expected it. 

One would have expected one of the Dwarfs to attempt to disarm her but instead Balin, wise elder Dwarf that he was, simply passed safely around Belba and the knife to drag Thorin away, out the door, by the elbow. As soon as he was out of sight Belba dropped the knife and swayed dangerously on her feet. Belba probably would have followed the knife to the ground if not for the large steadying hand on her back the was quickly steering her towards the silent comfort of her study. In the years since Tobias’s death Belba had slowly reclaimed Bagend but her study had always been her safe retreat even during their shamble of a marriage. Gandalf lead her to her chair and sat her down, Belba wasn’t sure where it came from but suddenly there was a cup of tea in her hands, camomile by the smell with a healthy splash of scotch. The combination tasted awful but she drank it none the less, grateful for the soothing burn and something to focus on until the tremors stopped. 

“Belba, I think it’s time you told me about that brand.” Gandalf said gently as he sat beside Belba and looked at her with sad understanding in his eyes. 

“You were right Gandalf, I have changed. And definitely not for the better. This is my punishment,” Belba said around a choked sob, “For murdering my husband…” 

 

X~X~X

 

“Thorin, you are a colossal Arse.” Balin muttered as he dragged his King, cousin and friend out of the Hobbit’s home. “I’ve always known you to be thicker than most but this; this is simply beyond my expectations of your sheer stupidity.” 

“Balin…” Thorin growled threateningly

“Really? You think I’m still affected by your glared and brooding sulks? You couldn’t, just for once, say something nice? Or at least keep your damnable mouth shut?” 

“Balin, I said nothing that was untrue. Such a weak, gentle bred creature is not fit for a quest as ours.”

“Weak and gentle enough to pull a knife on the troll standing in his doorway, casting stones before more than two words had been spoken.”

“But Balin…” Thorin tried to protest, but the elder Dwarf simply shook his head. 

“Thorin you are in the wrong here, you know I would follow you anywhere but I cannot condone your words tonight. This Hobbit took us in, fed us, without knowing us or knowing we were coming. More than can be said even of some kin. Then in you storm and start throwing around your bad mood, we all take it because we care about you and we’re used to it but you are a stranger to him you dolt. We’re about to ask for his help and you start off by calling him a poorly dressed grocer… honestly Thorin…”

“Alright, alright… perhaps I was a bit quick to judge… I may have let my disappointment and anger cloud my better judgement.” Thorin muttered, sinking down to sit on the wooden bench.

Balin's face filled with a sad understanding, "They refused then."

"Aye. They say this quest is ours and ours alone. They will not come."

"To be honest, none of us expected anything different." he said with resigned sadness, he could understand Thorin’s anger when turned away by kin. 

"Still, I had hoped..." Thorin paused, a deep frown lining his face, "They said I am leading you to your deaths, and I fear they are right. Perhaps this truly is a fool's venture and nothing good shall come of it."

Balin snorted in the most dignified way one could snort, "And since when did you listen to those stuffy idiots? You’re Thorin Oakenshield of the stone headed line of Durin. You’ve never listened to anyone or anything bar your gut, your Amad and Dis in all the years I’ve known you. Besides something good has already come to the rest of the company… We have been treated to a grand feast, you should have seen it Thorin, t’was fit for a King.”Balin sighed theatrically, "Tis a shame that you are banished out here in the dark and cold as the lads finish off what remains and there will be none left for you."

Thorin chuckled and shook his head, "Why would I expect any different? As if the lot of you would put your loyalty to your king above that of your stomachs…"

“If you’d not been a clod-head you may have feated with us Thorin,” Balin said soberly and Thorin nodded his understanding. 

"So the halfing was a kind host?"

"Aye, more than could have been expected considering the poor lad didn’t even know we were coming until Dwalin showed up. Seemed he’d spent most of the day cooking anyway since he was covered in flour when I arrived. Thought I was seeing a Ghost Hobbit.” Balin paused a moment, his mind considering his next words carefully. 

“What troubles your mind old friend?” Thorin asked, knowing better than to brush off Balin’s next words. 

“I have been watching our host this evening, I am not sure but I believe there may be cause to take caution with the Hobbit. I do not have any proof yet, mostly it is but a gut feeling however I think there is more to Master Baggins than the Wizard has let on.” Thorin nodded and together they sat in companionable silence until the door opened to reveal a familiar figure striding out towards them with determination. 

“Master Oakenshield” The Hobbit spoke with cold civility and Thorin resisted the urge to flinch. “Gandalf has informed me that with you being the leader of the company it is most unwise for you to remain outside; as such I would invite you into my home. If you, like your companions were, are hungry I have set aside some supper for you. If not then I am sure your nephews will see to it.” The Halfling turned to leave but Thorin race up and grabbed his wrist to stop him. The tense way he froze did not escape Thorin’s keen notice as he released the smaller male. 

“Master Baggins, I must apologise for my earlier words. I had received some bad news and was still upset over it, though ‘tis no excuse I hope that you can accept my apology.” The Hobbit turned to face Thorin and where the Dwarf had expected to see anger or fear, perhaps even a small measure of gladness he merely saw resigned indifference. 

“Indeed Master Oakenshield, your words are heard. If you’ll follow me…” Master Baggins led the way inside and Thorin was left to ponder not only Balin’s words but his own observations of the curious Hobbit.


	3. Whispers in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Gosh!!! You lot are amazing, has anyone told you? Because you definitely are~! <3 Thank you for all the Kudos and comments, I love hearing from you!

Belba sat on the edge of her bed, it was well past midnight and she could hear the loud snores of Dwarves throughout her Smial. Beside her sat her full pack, signed contract and a handful of letters to settle her affairs. She was already dressed in travelling trousers, a sturdy blouse, vest and coat with her long curls secured firmly in twin plats pinned up to form a sturdy bun at the base of her head. It wasn’t as impressive as some of the styles the Dwarves wore but it would keep the hair out of her face and out of trouble on the journey, it was either this or cut the blasted mop but the young Dwarf, Ori if memory served, had let out such a pained and strangled noise at her dark mutterings of hair-genocide that she’d promised the lad that she wouldn’t if she had any other choice. Gandalf, as promised, had helped her with packing and with writing her letters before sending her off for what he’d suggested would be per last decent nights rest what he didn’t know was that Belba hadn’t slept more than a few fretful, nightmare plagued hours a night since the Fell Winter. Over the last few years she’d been hounded by images of blood and Tobias returning from the earth to finish what he started, before that it was of cruel words and crueller hands. Those were preferable to the dreams and memories that haunted her of the Fell Winter, icy chills that seeped into her bones despite the warmth and blankets which surrounded her. Images of her father’s cold and vacant face, her mother slowly fading away as hand pulled at Belba and forced her from them only to be attacked by wolves, always wolves. Belba thought that there would perhaps be nothing she ever feared more than she did the Wolves which terrorised the Shire of her youth. 

Belba thought that she would gladly take on the Dwarves dragon if it meant she would never have to see another wolf in her life, but then perhaps she wouldn’t have a life following the dragon to worry about. Belba was not stupid, she knew the risk she was taking but she also knew that she didn’t have a lot of choices. It wouldn’t be long before someone, probably Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, whispered into enough ears and created enough havoc and fear that Belba was cast from the Shire with nothing but the clothes on her back and the brand on her neck. Better that she beat them to it and perhaps found herself a new home along the way to Erebor, should she make it out alive then her portion of the treasure should allow her a comfortable home to see out her days in relative peace. Belba wasn’t happy about abandoning Bagend but at least it would be on her terms and not on anyone else’s. 

Belba watched the sky outside her window, it was still dark but the Dwarves had commented on getting an early start. Belba rechecked all of her supplies before slipping out of her room and into the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast. There wasn’t a lot left in her stores after supper the night before but it was better to use what remained before going on a journey so Belba began to cook. She used every ingredient available and with the softness and swiftness naturally engrained in every Hobbit she cooked a feast for her Dwarven guests, what she hadn’t expected was for one of them to still be awake. 

“Isn’t it a bit early for you to be up lad?” came a voice which made Belba jump and spin on her heels, automatically her hands came up to cover her face and ribs which caused the bowl of eggs she was whisking to drop from her arms. 

The crash of ceramic on tile never came however, when Belba forced herself to open her eyes and relax her posture it was to see the Dwarf who’d startled her stepping away with the bowl in his hands. 

“Sorry lad, didn’t mean to startle ye’.” There was a slightly lopsided smile on the Dwarf’s face but Belba didn’t miss the appraising look in his bright eyes beneath braided brows and distracting hair. 

“You’re surprisingly light on your feet for a Dwarf.” Belba spoke, holding her hands out for the bowl. She ignored the Dwarf’s words of apology. 

“And you are surprisingly jumpy for a Gentle-Hobbit” Said the Dwarf, Nori Belba believed, as he handed over the bowl. 

“Indeed.” Belba did not turn her back on the Dwarf but neither did he make to leave as she brought her attentions back to the eggs. “Did you require something Master Dwarf?” 

“Not a thing Master Hobbit, I am simply an early riser as it seems you are too and thought you might like the company.”

“Indeed?” Belba said again, she was sure there was more to the Dwarf’s presence than his words suggested but she decided not to press the issue since he didn’t seem to mean her any immediate harm. “Well since you’re up you can help with breakfast. Would you mind laying the table?” The Dwarf nodded and set about work silently, with the extra set of hands Belba was able to focus more on cooking so it wasn’t long before delicious smells began to fill the smial, effectively waking the slumbering Dwarves within. 

“Wow Mister Boggins, whatever that is it smells delicious!!!!” Came an appreciate voice, far too chipper for a pre-dawn morning. Belba turned around and saw the young brunette Dwarf dragging his practically still asleep blonde sibling. This was the pair Belba had been informed were Master Oakenshield’s nephews, Belba smiled at the lads and with a wink snuck them some bacon. 

“It’s Baggins…” she reminded as the pair greedily downed the crispy treats before their companions could see their good fortune, though apparently one particular Dwarf was capable of seeing everything. 

“Be careful, those pair are more like crows that Dwarrow. Feed them once and you’ll never get rid of them, they’ll squawk and screech and make themselves a nuisance until you give in to their demands…” Spoke the mellow voice of Thorin Oakenshield. “How do you think they got us to let them come?” The lads were so outraged by his words that they proved him right with almost birdlike shrieks of protest. 

“I’ll be sure to be careful.” Belba muttered, even as she blatantly handed the pair a fresh muffin each. They hooted and scampered off with their loot, Thorin merely lifted and enquiring brow and Belba turned back to her cooking. She’d seen enough children starve through the Fell Winter, she’d been one herself, she’d always make sure the younglings were fed first which was why she tossed another muffin to little Ori when she saw the lad scurry past swaddled in his knitwear. The lad looked confused until she winked at him also and then with a blush he nibbled on his treat and scuttled away to his brothers who nodded approvingly at the muffin. 

“This will not be an easy journey, I will do my best as company leader to look out for everyone but I cannot guarantee your safety. Nor will I be responsible for your fate.” The words were not unkind, simply a statement of fact. Belba looked up at the Dwarf and nodded. 

“It has been my experience that safety is never guaranteed and as for my fate,” Belba shrugged “It will be what it will be as it always has. We will all be held responsible for nothing more or less than our own actions and decisions, in the end that is always the way of things.” Belba brushed her fingers against the bronze collar absently before leaving the kitchen and the Dwarf to begin putting food on the table.   
Despite the early hour breakfast was as grand an affair as supper the night before, this time Belba found herself smiling at the almost faunt like antics of the Dwarves. The Hobbit suspected, by the indulgent smiles on the faces of the elder Dwarves, that there would be a lot less merry making on the road than under her roof and she could not find it within herself to mind as they danced on her table and used her doilies as dishcloths. In any case, she was leaving all these things behind soon enough and they were only things after all. 

When the time came Belba helped the Dwarves clean up, placed the letters she needed sent in the mailbox of her neighbour Hamfast Gamgee with a note and followed the Dwarves out of the Shire. Belba did not look back at her home, did not give in to the Hobbitly fear of leaving but instead held her head high and focused on putting one foot ahead of the other.


	4. Adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventures are not all they're cracked up to be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double Post today? Why??? Because it's FRIDAY!!!! and I feel like it ;)

Belba had been on plenty of walking holidays, it was an acceptable way to leave the confines of her home and oppressive family but they were not adventures. The young Hobbit was beginning to believe every bad thing she’d ever been told about adventures; so far she’d been dumped on a pony which not only did she have no idea how to ride but it turned out she was allergic to, they’d been reduced to a pitiful Three meals a day, rained on almost constantly and Fili and Kili had taken it upon themselves to scare her witless about Orc and Wargs. 

It was awful! And yet it was also wonderful. Each day she learnt to ride just a little bit better, Fili and Kili made her laugh just a little bit brighter and her smile came a little easier. Each step further away she took from the Shire was a step further she took from her demons, or at least so she thought. 

Bree had been difficult for Belba, she’d grown used to the company of Dwarves and the way they simply treated her as a Hobbit, small and unusual but nothing more and nothing less. Bree was not only full of men but also a fair spattering of Hobbit, Hobbit who easily recognised Belba’s brand if not her face. They whispered into their hand and snickered as Belba passed them by on the back of her pony, Mother Hobbits pulling away their children lest they get too close and stray comments reaching her ears. 

Whispers of “Good riddance” and “So they’ve got Dwarves to take her, how unusual…” even a “Do you think we should warn the Dwarves?” Belba tried to shrink in on herself but was thankful that if the Dwarves heard they didn’t seem to connect the comments with Belba or react to them at all. They entered Bree with almost military efficiency picking up the supplies they needed and leaving for the road again. Gandalf however seemed to have noted the stares and heard the comments, he glued himself to Belba’s side as silent support and a physical shield blocking her from view of at least one side of the street. The Hobbit appreciated his consideration, even if he had yet to weasel the full explanation from her sealed lips. 

Bree, though painful, marked a milestone for Belba as the furthest she’d ever travelled. The days slowly began to form a dull routine and Belba slowly got to know a few of the Dwarves, they were still distant and suspicious but that didn’t bother her since Belba was much the same. A deep, instinctive part of her thankful for Gandalf lie as she considered the implications of being the only female amongst a relatively unknown horde of males so clearly physically superior to her. 

Belba was careful not to bath when the Dwarves did to keep up Gandalf’s pretence but overall the Dwarves paid little enough attention to her outside of snickering at her poor riding form and laughing openly when Fili and Kili managed to trick her with some prank or another. Belba thought everything was going quite well all things considered, she should have known better… 

On a particularly long and tiring day Thorin called a halt to the ride at a rather open grassed area. It was unusual as there were remnants of what appeared to be a burnt down house but Belba was too tired to argue and dismounted with the others, apparently Gandalf was not. Belba tuned the pair out as they began to bicker, really all she wanted was to stretch her legs and lay down on the soft looking grass until her hips stopped aching from the day’s ride. Belba was just about to lead her pony away with the others when she saw Gandalf storm off in a huff. 

Later as Belba watched Bofur dish up supper, a rather hearty soup, that she voiced her concerns about the Wizard’s prolonged absence. 

“He’s been a long time.”

“Who?” asked the Dwarf, more focused on the meal than her words. 

“Gandalf.” Belba said with a hint of repremand

“He’s a wizard!” Bofur scoffed, as though that explained everything, “He does as he chooses. Here, do us a favor: take this to the lads.” Belba found her sands filled with twin bowls and nodded. Turning to leave she smiled at the bickering behind her as Bombur tried to sneak another serving of soup, the family dynamics within the company were something the lone Hobbit envied.

Belba walked through the woods to where the ponies were meant to be grazing and the lads keeping watch, the twin looks of fearful regret was enough to make her pause.

“What’s the matter?” She asked suspiciously 

“We’re supposed to be looking out for the ponies.”

“Only we’ve encountered a slight problem.”

“We had sixteen.”

“Now there’s fourteen.”

“You’ve lost two ponies? How can you Lose two ponies, they’re not exactly small!” Belba huffed, “I’d best get Thorin and the others if we’re going to start a search…” The boys jumped to stop Belba as she turned to leave.

“Uhh, no. Let’s not worry him. As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it.” Belba raises a brow unconvinced but looked around. 

“Well, something big, and possibly quite dangerous, uprooted those trees so I’m not investigating anything without the others. Now let’s head back...”

“Hey! There’s a light. Over here! Stay down.” Fili pulled Belba by her sleeve along with the pair of stone headed brothers until they were hidden behind a log staring at three large trolls huddled around a cooking fire with not two but four of their ponies. 

“They’ve got Myrtle and Minty!” Belba glared at the pair as they tried to look innocent, “I think they’re going to eat them, we have to do something.”

“Yes; you should. Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, and you’re so small.” Kili beamed 

“No, don’t even finishe that thought”

“They’ll never see you.”

“No, no, no... This is not funny, I’ll be killed!”

“It’s perfectly safe! We’ll be right behind you.” Kili coerced with his big brown eyes

“If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl.” Fili offered unhelpfully before pushing Belba out from behind the relative safety of the log. 

“I’m already in trouble!”Belba hissed but the pair had already disappeared and she was left with little other choice than to try and save the ponies, hoping that backup would be nearby. 

“Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don’t look like mutton again tomorrow.” Belba crept silently towards the trolls, trying not to gasp at the stench rolling off of them. 

“Quit yer’ griping. These ain’t sheep. These is West Nags!”

“Oh, I don’t like `orse. I never `ave. Not enough fat on them.”

“Well, it’s better than the leathery old farmer. All skin and bone, he was. I’m still picking bits of him out of me teeth.” The Hobbit shuddered at the thought and realised that they should have listened to Gandalf, blast that wizard. 

Belba snuck towards the ponies, trying to quiet them as they whinnied fretfully. Belba hid as best she could from the bickering Trolls even as she tugged at the ropes holding their steeds prisoner, for the first time Belba lamented not thinking ahead enough to bring some kind a weapon but then glared at the roped wondering what good it would have done since she has little true skill in using one. Images of Fili’s knives entered her head and she decided that she would kick the Dwarf when neck she saw him for knowingly sending her into danger unarmed. 

Belba began looking around for something she might use to free the ponies, and then she saw that one of the trolls had a knife at his hip. Cursing herself, her luck and the foolishness of Dwarves Belba did what was hands down the stupidest thing she had done to date… she tried to steal from a troll. 

It did not end well.


	5. Elven perception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf's trick was only going to take them so far... Elves are not so easily fooled

It could be argued that the Dwarves’ behaviour upon reaching Rivendell was understandable, though not remotely acceptable, considering the circumstances through which they found themselves seeking shelter from a race they considered their sworn enemies. Their bad mood however followed them all through their brief tour of Rivendell and the feast which followed, Belba tried to ignore them though. The small Hobbit was instantly enamoured with Rivendell for not only its beauty but for the intense feelings of safety and peace which filled her from the moment she stepped within its borders. Belba had not felt so relaxed since she found herself falling asleep in her father’s arms as he read her a story when she was a child, before she knew pain and fear. 

The music of the Elves soothed Belba, the food filled her in a way that she hadn’t felt since the journey began and all in all she was a very mellow Hobbit as she listened to the Dwarves gossip and complain about their unwitting hosts. 

“Try it. Just a mouthful.” Dori tried to coerce his youngest brother with no success

“I don’t like green food.” He shook his head stubbornly and pushed the bowl away

“Where’s the meat?” Complainted Dwalin as he rifled through bowls of vegetables 

“Have they got any chips?” asked Ori hopefully which caused a snickering ripple around the table

“I doubt it lad, they only seem to eat weeds…” lamented Gloin as Oin stuffed a napkin inside of his ear trumpet when the Elf maiden playing a gentle flute got too close. 

Lord Elrond, Gandalf and Thorin were in discussion about the swords found within the troll horde but Belba was satisfied with only half listening as she continued to match Bifur bowl for bowl of vegies, glad that she didn’t have to fight for her fill against any of the other Dwarves. At least until she found herself dragged into the conversation. 

“And how unusual it is to see a Hobbit so far from home, though perhaps not so strange when a certain Wizard is involved” Lord Elrond said fondly and Belba looked away from her plate to smile at him. 

“As a Baggins I would, indeed, blame the entirety of my current predicament on Gandalf, he whisked my mother away on adventures in her youth so I suppose it was only a matter of time before he came for me.” Belba said lightly with a smile, happy at the affronted look on the Wizards face. 

“Your mother you say? She wouldn’t have been a Miss Belladonna Took by any chance?” Belba smiled and nodded, unaware that her conversation with the Elven Lord had garnered a lot of Dwarven attention. “I remember her visits with fondness, is she well?” 

Belba felt her throat close and her lungs tighten, her mouth opened and closed uselessly before she saw sorrowful understanding fill the Elf’s ancient eyes. “I am very sorry for your loss, Miss Baggins. Your mother will be remembered warmly here.” Belba would have felt the sincerity behind those words if not for the snickering behind her. 

“What do you find so funny master Dwarf?” Belba hissed, still more emotional than usual over the reminder of her loss causing her to snap at Kili as he whispered to his grinning brother. 

“Nothing at all Mister Boggins,” Kili sniggered “It’s just that the Elves seem to think you’re a woman is all.”

“They’re as bad as Kili” Added Fili with a knowing smirk to his brother and an eyebrow wiggle causing uproars of laughter from the remaining Dwarves. 

Lord Elrond raised an elegant brow, Gandalf coughed awkwardly and Belba simply glared at the Wizard. 

“Actually My Lord it is Mistress Baggins as I am a widower but please simply call me Belba, my mother always spoke kindly of the Elves of Rivendell.” Belba replied. 

There was a distinct silence around the table as the Dwarves stared at Belba, she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but the eerie lack of reaction affected her more than their yelling or shouting would have. 

“I find myself quite weary, is there somewhere I might rest My Lord?” Belba asked, she could tell by the glint in the Elf’s eyes that he knew an escape tactic when he saw one. 

“Indeed Mistress Belba, my sons will show you to a room you should find quite comfortable.” Suddenly there was a dashing Elven lad on either side of Belba’s chair smiling at her and pulling her chair out for her. As Belba rose to follow the Elves it was like the spell over the Dwarves was broken, suddenly the elders of the group were on their feet shouting in their own Dwarvish language while the younger Dwarves simply stared in horror at Belba as though she had grown an extra head or worse...

Belba tried to slip out of the Chaos but it was impossible as it was centred on her, she literally had the attention of every person in the room regardless of race. It only made matters worse when one of the Dwarves grabbed Belba’s wrist. The shouting and attention had already put Belba on edge, memories coming unbidden to her mind as her body began to tremble just slightly but then the pressure of a firm, unforgiving grip around her wrist had Belba freezing. 

The noise around her faded, everything went a washed out grey colour, her trembling worsened and then suddenly Belba’s knees gave out beneath her. Belba should have, in all honesty, hit the floor but the hand holding her captive was attached to a Dwarf who was apparently focusing on her and saw the moment her knees gave out and pulled her into him. Though it was meant as a comforting gesture Belba was too far gone inside of her mind and only felt the strong, foreign arms surrounding her and lashed out.

The arms around her were suddenly gone and Belba felt the cold floor beneath her, slowly bringing her back to herself. When Belba looked around, her arms wrapped protectively around her, she saw the Dwarves staring at her in silence. Closest to her stood Dori and suddenly Belba felt sick, scrambling to her feet Belba ignored the dangerous way she swayed and ran from the room as fast as she was able. 

 

X~X~X

 

“I think you had best explain what has just occurred Wizard because I find myself at a loss” Thorin grumbled from his place beside Gandalf as he stared after the fleeing Hobbit.

“Ah yes, I was curious as to how long the pretence would hold. Should have known I’d never get it past Lord Elrond’s keen eyes” the old Wizard said with a sigh and he sank back down into his seat, the silence following Belba’s departure still hung heavily in the air so Gandalf’s words carried easily and the Dwarves turned to face him. “Your Elven host is indeed correct; Belba Baggins is a female Hobbit. I had her hide her gender from you to ensure her acceptance on this journey.”

“You cannot expect us to knowingly take a female to Erebor” Thorin hissed, Elrond raising a brow at the information but holding his tongue. 

“Indeed I do Thorin Oakenshield, you will not find another such as Belba Baggins.”

“She must be sent back to the Shire, the road is no place for a gentle woman.” Said Balin, the other Dwarves nodding their agreement. 

“And who would take her, for surely you would not send her back alone through terrain we now know is plagued by orcs and wargs who’ve seen her travelling with you. Whoever went would not have time to catch up with the rest of the company as you cannot afford the delay of waiting for them to return.” The Dwarves looked at each other cautiously, “And I know you would not trust anyone but a Dwarf with her safety” Gandalf added looking apologetically to Lord Elrond.

“The younger Dwarves can return her to her home, they are strong enough to be trusted and it is an honourable task.” Offered Dori, clearly keen for any reason his youngest brother should not continue to the mountain and knowing the lads would not be able to protest such an order. The elder Dwarves nodded their agreement with this plan. 

“Oh yes indeed, but that would be assuming Mistress Belba had a home to return to.” Piped up one of Elrond’s sons still hovering at the edge of proceedings

“Yes, that branding collar does not look pleasant. Poor thing.” Added the other and together they shook their heads in unison. 

“Branding Collar?” Growled Dwalin, his voice taking on a particularly telling roughness as a darkness fell over his expression. 

“Indeed, a mark placed on her as punishment by her kin. They might as well have burnt it into her skin as some men do; they have sentenced her to wear the Hobbit mark of death for the rest of her life.” Gandalf said in disgust, “I do not yet know all of the details but I am starting to get a fair idea but the simplified version is that Belba has no home to go back to. Send her back to the Shire if you must but don’t fool yourselves into thinking that doing so will protect her.” In the way only Elves and Wizards seem capable of doing the taller members of the roof rose in a swirling of cloaks and robes before practically sliding out of the room and leaving the Dwarves to ponder the information now had. All thanks to the damnable perceptiveness of those weed eating Elves…


	6. The Misty Mountains call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goblins....

“She’s been lost ever since she left home. She should never have come. She has no place  
amongst us!”

Those words rang in Belba’s head long after Bofur and Ori had practically dragged her into the cave and sat her down in the corner, she knew her body was shaking and that she was soaked through from the rain but Belba was stuck within her mind.

She didn’t hear Bofur talk to her, practically shouting as she stayed unresponsive, didn’t feel Ori holding her hands to try and warm them between his own gloved ones. She didn’t even notice as two large Dwarven bodies dropped to either side of her and shuffled in close to share their natural body warmth or the way every Dwarf in the cave was glaring at their leader for his callous words. 

Eventually the movement around the cave stilled and settles as weariness set in and the Dwarves all drifted to sleep, it was during this time that Belba made a decision. As she came back to herself the Hobbit was aware of intense warmth on either side, she almost jumped out of her skin when she realised that on either side of her slept Balin and Dwalin. Belba slowly stood, careful not to wake the pair, her legs ached from her lack of movement but she stayed silent despite the urge to stretch and groan. Belba was good at staying silent, moving without noise around sleeping males. With a sad smile Belba slipped over to her abandoned pack, unsure of when it had been removed from her back or how it got to the other side of the cave. Belba returned Ori’s gloves to the lad, smiling fondly as he snuffled closer to his brothers, and lifted her bag onto her shoulders. Thorin had been right; she didn’t belong on this journey with these frustrating yet beloved Dwarves. Her presence alone was putting them at risk and she was still keeping secrets from them, they knew her gender but not what she’d done. 

Belba figured if she left now they’d think her returned to Rivendell and the Shire though in truth she’d return to the place they encountered the Trolls. Close enough to the Shire to be relatively safe now the Trolls were gone, there was a farm there that was now without a farmer. It wouldn’t be Bagend but she could rebuild the farmer’s home and make herself comfortable in time. 

Sneaking through the snoring slumbering Dwarves was easy for Belba though she felt a pang of sadness as she slipped past Bofur and began walking away from the cave, she was forced to move slowly in the dark as her eyes were not as accustomed to it as she’d originally planned. With the changes terrain from the stone giant’s battle it was slow and precarious going until Belba noticed a light easing her vision. A muffled blue light, coming from her hip. 

Belba froze, a warning from Gandalf ringing in her ears as she turned and bolted back towards the cave. The way was slippery and rocks shifted beneath her feet but Belba ran as fast as she could, faster than could even remotely be seen as sensible given the unsteady terrain and yet her feet were sure and firm as she took each step closer. She heard the shouts before she reached the cave but they merely spurred her on faster, despite her speed and urgency she was still too late. Belba watched as the cave floor sealed shut with a strangled noise on her lips, her Dwarves were gone. 

With an unlady-like curse on her lips Belba dropped to her knees and hit her fist against the stone trap floor, she was the one that was meant to leave not them. They were meant for grand adventures and daring deeds not to be prey to unknown enemies, she would not stand for it! Pulling her still glowing sword out of its sheath Belba shuffled along the ground examining the rock for the seam she knew must be there. It helped that Belba had seen the floor close otherwise she would never have noticed the tiny fissure in the stone; thinking of her Dwarves below Belba lifted her tiny sword and thrust it at the tiny crack again and again. The first few times she missed, her experience with swordsmanship little more than stabbing gestures, but eventually she felt the slight jolt in the sword as she managed to drive it just between the edges of the platform. 

Wiggling the blade and throwing her body weight behind it Belba managed to get her sword through the crack; once about half of the blade had disappeared she began trying to turn it to separate the rock. Belba pushed and threw her body against the blade, planting her feet to get better leverage and slowly the blade turned until suddenly the ground dropped out from beneath her and Belba was falling. 

Somehow Belba managed to keep a grip on her sword, her pack still on her back, as she fell into a roughly carved slide. The suddenness of the fall, the speed and general fear made Belba want to scream but she kept silent, screaming never really helped in the long run… Before she knew it she was tumbling onto a rock outcrop, a fierce drumming and horrific singing assaulting her ears. 

As Belba righted herself and crept forward she heard the singing end, a sinister hush fall before the yelling began and she knew where her Dwarves must be. Because if someone was shouting it would undoubtedly be at her Dwarves, the infuriatingly loveable brutes! Belba crept forward and got her first glimpse of their jailors, Goblins. Belba Hated Goblins… all Hobbits did, it was a historical mutual hatred. 

Now that Belba was closer she could hear the words of the disgusting Goblin who stood as their leader, he was not hard to pick since she was the largest and most disgusting of the Goblins. 

“Oh, but I’m forgetting, you don’t have a mountain. And you’re not a king. Which makes  
you nobody, really.” Thorin stood, noble and predictable, at the front of the company. Their weapons had been seized and they stood packed together with the younger Dwarves in the centre as the Goblin spoke. “I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc astride a White Warg.”

Belba snuck closer as Thorin scoffed at the Goblin King “Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago.”

“So you think his defiling days are done, do you?” he laughed as he turned to a tiny goblin sitting in a basket and holding a slate which of itself seemed odd to Belba, as far as she knew Goblins had no form of written communication “Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize.”

The tiny goblin cackled as he scribbled against the slate before pulling a lever, causing his basket to slide down a system of ropes and pulleys into the darkness. Belba didn’t like the grin on the Goblins faces. 

“Now while we wait it’s time for some sport! Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker! Start with the youngest.” Belba watched as Ori was pulled from his brothers’ protective grasp. The goblins were cackling as they brought forth their torture devices, a familiar burning rage began to fill Belba. Her breathing became more deliberate, a tightness formed in her chest which gave way to a hollow emptiness in her stomach. 

Normally Belba would force her anger away, hide it and suffocate it until it withered and died. That was the Hobbit way; anger was not a respectable emotion for a gentle Hobbit. Belba Baggins however was no longer a gentle Hobbit, she was a branded and banished adventuress and she let that rage fill her even as she watched Ori reach for his kin and the Dwarves fight against the hordes of Goblin filth. 

Belba snuck forward, behind the throne of the Great Goblin. It was simple to move unseen as no one knew to look for her, their focus on the chaos at hand as Belba climbed up the poorly made throne and stood behind the Goblin, his bulk shielding her from view. 

As he was about the give the command to have Ori strapped into what Belba assumed was the Mangler Belba threw herself forward off the back of the throne with her sword out in front of her. Everything moved it slow motion for Belba, this was the moment she realised that she deserved her brand. Belba was not acting in self-defence, she didn’t Have to kill this Goblin but she wanted to. The rage within her would only be satisfied with his death and as the elvish sword (letter opener depending on who you asked) sank smoothly into the flesh at the base of the Goblins skull. It was much easier than when she’d used the carving knife and Belba wasn’t sure it that was because of the elvish blade or the different location but she suspected the blade. Belba felt the shudder that went through the large Goblin’s body, distantly heard the gurgle as blood filled his throat and then he was swaying and falling. Belba held on as he luckily fell forwards, onto a fair number of his followers. Silence filled the cavern as Belba stood and pulled the sword out from the Goblin’s neck, eyes locked with the terrified Ori Belba gave the lad a wink before she lifted her little sword and charged. 

At that exact moment a flash filled the hall and Gandalf was there, the Dwarves took up arms and the fought their way out of the Goblin caves. The whole thing was a blur to Belba but as they stood outside in the shining sun she felt her heart pound and her knees go weak as the adrenaline began to leave her system. Belba probably would have sat down and stayed down right where she was if she hadn’t suddenly been scooped up into Ori’s arms. 

Automatically her body tensed but as he made to hastily release her Belba wrapped her own arms around the young Dwarf, taller and older than her though he may have been, and returned the fond embrace. In the background she could hear Gandalf counting off Dwarves. 

“Five, six, seven, eight...Bifur, Bofur...that’s ten...Fili, Kili...that’s twelve...and Bombur that  
makes thirteen. Where’s Belba? Where is our Hobbit? Where is our hobbit?!” 

“I’ve got her, she’s with me!” Called Ori as he released Belba from the hug, but refusing to let her go entirely the young Dwarf dropped his arm companionable around her shoulder. Belba blushed at the sudden attention. 

“Indeed she is, though I did not see you fall with us Mistress Baggins. It seems that you left the cave while we were resting. I’m surprised we saw you again at all, I expected you’d be long gone.” Thorin’s words were not uncalled for, Belba had slipped away and was planning to leave but she felt strengthened by the subtle tightening of Ori’s grip around her shoulders, as though the lad were cross on her behalf and perhaps if she’d had the thought to look around she’d have noticed similar body language on other members of their group. 

“Well, what does it matter? She’s back!” Called Bombur, a resounding agreement from his kin making Belba smile

“It matters! I want to know: why did you come back?” Thorin’s eyes were piercing but perhaps just a bit hopeful

“Look, I know you doubt me and do not want me on this journey; I know you always have regardless of whether you thought I was male or not. And I suppose in a way you are right to, there is much I don’t know about fighting or travelling. I think often of the Shire and what was my home but like you I don’t have a home anymore. It was taken from me and I guess that’s why I came back, I may not be able to do anything to get back what I lost but you can, you are! And I will help you if I can.”

As Belba finished her speech, amongst the nodding Dwarves they heard the calls of wargs.

“Out of the frying pan...” Thorin practically swore

“...and into the fire! Run! RUN!” Gandalf finished and suddenly they were off again but if anyone noticed the way the brothers Ri stuck just a little closer to Belba no one had time to mention it.


	7. To Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company find safety in the halls of a skin changer... or do they? 
> 
> The company begin to discover more of Belba's past and become appropriately protective because Dwarves are big mushy sweet hearts!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because you are all so wonderful here is a second chapter! <3 Thank you for all the comments and Kudos, they keep me going!

They’d escaped the Orcs, wargs and fire but not without injury. Belba leaned heavily against Ori, the young dwarf easily supporting her light frame as she shook slightly, he was kind enough not to mention it but she knew he’d be able to feel the slight tremor. Belba had killed again and it shook her, not just once but several times today. The young Hobbit was beginning to make a habit out of this which was not the Hobbit way at all. Belba was beyond exhausted but she as the stood on the carrock and watched Gandalf mutter over Thorin’s prone form she couldn’t find it in her to rest. 

Belba was mostly uninjured, only a few light burns and scratches, for which she was grateful considering her foolhardy charge. Belba had been terrified when she left the relative safety of the tree but her body moved on its own as her fear for Thorin overpowered her fear of wargs, so much like the wolves of her childhood that she couldn’t bear to think of them. 

Belba was pulled from her thoughts by Thorin’s voice; he was awake and calling for her…

“The halfling?” he called weakly, Belba felt her heart flop in her chest. 

“It’s all right. Belba is here. She’s quiet safe.” Gandalf soothed as Dwalin and Kili helped Thorin up. 

However, once stable and on his feet he shruged them off and approached Belba. Instinctively Belba moved away from Ori, as though to protect him which was odd considering he was clearly stronger than she. 

“You!” Belba flinched as the shouted word, the familiar quaking of her limbs increasing as her vision began to grey out. “What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild and that you had no place amongst us?”  
Thorin advanced until he is face to face with Belba, but she was already retreating within her own mind. A safe haven from the aggressors of her world, the one place they could never reach her. “I’ve never been so wrong in all my life!”

Belba felt arms like hot steel wind around her; they were not gentle like Ori’s but demanding and unrelenting. Later Belba would ponder what her reaction might have been if not for her past, if she had not already retreated within her mind but what ifs had never got the small Hobbit anywhere. 

Instead what she did was lash out, after the incident in Rivendell perhaps they should have expected it as Belba raised her knee and forced it up into the Dwarf’s nether region, with the small amount of space her attack gave her as he released her shoulders to clutch at his newest injury Belba grabbed the sheath of her sword and surging forward planted the pommel right in the Dwarf’s solar plexus. 

As Thorin reeled back in pain, Dwalin and Kili rushing forward to catch him, Belba scrambled back away from him and even as the other Dwarves made to catch her Gandalf’s voice stopped them. 

“Leave her be!” He shouted but Belba didn’t hear, she merely turned on her heel and ran towards the poorly carved steps which led to the base of the Carrock leaving behind a company of concerned and confused Dwarves.

X~X~X

By the time the Dwarves made their much slower descent to the base of the Carrock Belba had calmed down enough to be mortified by her actions, when she tried to apologise Thorin merely shook his head, refused to look her in the eye and the company silently followed Gandalf in search of shelter. Despite the concerned looks being cast her way none of the company commented on Belba’s outburst, at least not yet. Ori stepped in to stand beside Belba and she found herself automatically leaning into the Dwarf’s side, she never felt threatened around the young Dwarf and since she’d got to know them Belba felt comfortable and at ease around most of the Dwarves. Thorin however could always be counted on to bring out the worst in her. 

When Ori slowly put his arm around Belba in a half hug the young Hobbit reciprocated and leaned into the embrace, she did not notice the curious looks the pair received or the twin pouts on two grumpy Dwarven faces. 

When they reached the house of the man Gandalf knew they were forced to separate and Belba followed Gandalf in silently as he began his cunning story. The plan had been to slowly introduce more and more Dwarves so as not to overwhelm their host but the skin changer took one look at Belba, and more importantly the mark she wore, with narrowed eyes before cutting Gandalf off. 

“Clearly there are many stories to be told, bring in your companions and eat with me. Your Hobbit looks far too thin for her kind and I’d like to hear what she has to say, it is not common practice for Hobbits to mark their own and cast them out.” The large bear of a man turned away, missing Belba’s flinch at he waved them in. Gandalf followed but sent Belba for the Dwarves, a knowing sadness in his eyes as he watched her again tug at the bronze collar she could not remove. 

Belba walked silently back to her Dwarves, waiting in their pairs to enter, and with a soft smile nodded towards the door.

“Gandalf’s ploy was seen through; we’ve been invited to dinner…” Belba offered with a hesitant shrug but Ori and Bofur rushed up beside her to cheer up their clearly off Hobbit. Belba lead the way to where Gandalf had disappeared but said little as Bofur chattered happily about nothing in particular and Ori held gently onto Belba’s trembling hand, both could see her anxiety clearly but knew better than to mention it. 

As the company entered the dining room they were all stunned by the size of it as well as the overly large animals roaming around in very non-animalistic ways. Dwalin began grumbling about the sheep and dogs serving food even as he took his seat, the others at least kept their mouths firmly shut under the watchful eye of their even larger host. Belba could not avoid sitting next to their host as he invited her with his booming voice to join him at the table but she did drag Ori with her, Dori and Nori followed their brother and soon they took their seats and began to eat a feast. Beorn’s home did not serve meat of any kind, understandable as far as Belba was concerned considering the skin changer’s other form and fondness for his four legged brethren, and though it bothered the Dwarves they were much happier than they had been when dining with the Elves and ate heartily. At least until Gandalf finished regaling their host with stories of their trials through their journey and the skin changer’s dark eyes fell once more on a silent Hobbit. 

“A well told story, and should it prove to be true you will have the protection of my land as long as you need it. I have no love for Dwarves but even less so for Goblins or Orcs. However there is another story I wish to hear, it is very unusual to see Hobbits so far from the West and I believe there is more to this little Bunny’s tale than meets the eye.” The skin changer again looked to the collar at Belba’s neck causing her to shiver. 

The silence which fell around the table was almost deafening, Belba absently heard Gandalf chattering away trying to justify her place within the company but Belba could feel the eyes on her. 

“You clearly have some advanced knowledge of Hobbits to believe there is a story at all,” Belba muttered, taking a deep breath and trying to stall the confession she knew she’d be forced to make. 

“Indeed I do, I have memories of Hobbits from before they were called such. Back from the days of your wandering ancestors, child, and even then they did not brand their kin.” Belba resisted the urge to pull at her collar but she felt her cheeks and ears heat in shame as her Dwarves began to look at her as though seeing her for the first time. 

“And if I refuse to share my story?” Belba asked, her throat tight with emotion

“I do not share my home with those I cannot trust to respect it, one marked with the symbol of death is one to be weary of.” It was like an electric shock went through the company and Belba felt she might cry, she didn’t want to show weakness by letting her tears flow but she was not sure her body would give her a choice. 

“Indeed, a sentiment you would share with my kin. Perhaps you are right to do so; I thank you for the meal Master Beorn, I will collect my things and be on my way.” Belba stood and made to leave the table but Gandalf’s grip around her wrist forced her to remain. 

“Belba, do not be ridiculous. Simply tell him what he wants to know and be done with it.”

“Release me Gandalf” Belba tugged uselessly at her wrist, she knew she was making a scene but she was not ready. Not ready for the anger or mistrust of the company, or worse the pity.

“You cannot run away from your past forever Belba” Gandalf tried again, his voice soothing. 

“I can and I will! damn it all, my past is just that. Mine. You cannot make me do this Gandalf…” Belba pulled uselessly at her wrist once more until a new voice broke through the silence. 

“Mistress Baggins, a word if I may?” Belba turned to Thorin and looked away, there was a look in the Dwarf’s eyes which she couldn’t read but she nodded and Gandalf released her. 

Belba followed Thorin out of the room and once they were out of both sight and hearing of the company the Dwarf turned to her, Belba refused to meet his eye and flinched when Thorin placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“Belba, I can see that this is not something you wish to share and that the circumstances are less than ideal but I promise you that there is nothing that can change how the company sees you. You have more than proven yourself to us, to me, and nothing in your past can change that.” Belba felt the tears begin to fall at Thorin’s gentle words. 

“You don’t understand, I did something unforgivable and this…” Belba indicated the hated collar “Is my punishment, for all to see what I am and to know me for it.”

“Belba, we see you for who you are and it has nothing to do with that piece of bronze. The brothers’ Ri are about two steps away from adopting you, with half the company ready to fight them for the privilege to do so first. You are a member of our company, our family, now and you can trust us to stand for you in this and all things.” 

“You don’t get it,” Belba shouted, her tears falling in force as she pushed Thorin away. “My kin are the ones that chose this punishment for me, as a kindness compared to what could have been demanded. If I hadn’t run away to follow you mad Dwarves I would have been thrown out of the Shire anyway!” Thorin stepped in close and grabbed the breaking Hobbit by her quaking shoulders. 

“Why Belba, what could you have possible done that was so terrible?” Thorin shouted back, shaking her slightly. 

“I Killed him!” 

“Who damn it?” 

“My husband…” Belba whispered and Thorin felt the energy leave her suddenly until it was only his grip keeping her upright, Thorin was stunned by this revelation but knew there was more to this. The Belba they knew was not capable of such an act in cold blood. 

“Why Belba?” Thorin prodded as he lowered her to the floor but continued to hold her shoulders, “What did he do to you?” clearly Thorin had hit the nail with that because suddenly Belba was crying in great shaking sobs. 

“He… he was going… to kill me… I just… I didn’t… but maybe if I’d just…”

Unsure what to do Thorin pulled the small Hobbit into his arms as he’d once done with his own sister and held her close, rocking her gently until her breathing settled and her body relaxed. Lifting the now sleeping Hobbit into his arms Thorin re-entered the dining room, following his brisk nod Ori rushed to take Belba and followed a sheep to the place their packs had been taken until she woke.

Their skin changer host said nothing as Ori left, merely watched the Dwarf as he took his seat looking much angrier than when he’d left. 

“My words still stand; I would know what kind of Hobbit wears such a mark before I offer the refuge of my hall.” He said once silence had again taken over the dining hall. 

“Belba Baggins is a noble and brave Hobbit; she has saved the lives of myself, and my companions more than once on this journey. She is a Hobbit who has been let down by her Halfling kin and if I have my way will never have cause to deal with them again.” The other Dwarves were looking at Thorin expectantly but none interrupted but the air was growing darker. 

“Yes, yes but that does little to explain the brand…” Gandalf stood at this point and cleared his voice. 

“Perhaps I can help with this, I am yet to know all the details myself but Belba was charged with causing the death of her husband…” 

“The Bastard deserved whatever she gave him and worse,” Thorin spat, all eyes again falling to him as a harsh silence fell, but Thorin was glaring at Beorn and Gandalf for making their Hobbit relive such pain and wanted to kick himself for every moment until now “From what I got before Mistress Baggins cried herself to sleep, she killed her husband in self-defence as he tried to kill her. From what we’ve seen on the road it’s apparent that the son of an orc had been abusing her for years. Brand or no, Belba Baggins is the victim in all of this.” There was a harsh grumble of Khuzdul around the table as Thorin finished but Beorn simply nodded. 

“It seems the little Bunny is not so harmless after all, she will have my protection here as long as she needs it. I will now go to check your story about the Goblins and Orcs; I recommend you do not stray outside after dark if you value all your limbs…” With that the skin changer left and the Dwarves huddled close to discuss their Hobbit. Gandalf simply pulled out his pipe for a sorrowful smoke as he processed the information and his memories of young Belba and her mother.


	8. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adorable Dwarves... figured I owed you all a bit of happy

When morning came Belba was reluctant to wake, she was warm and comfortable in a way she had not been since leaving Bagend yet content in a way that had been missing much longer. Her eyes felt sore and gritty, her head throbbed with a dull ache and all Belba wanted was to snuggle back under the blanket and sleep until she felt better. However there was an annoyingly persistent stream of sunshine trained directly at her face and the angry muttering of a hushed argument keeping her from returning to slumber. With a groan Belba tried to shift away from the sun but found herself tightly wedged between two warm Dwarven bodies, it was Balin and Dwalin again. With a smile Belba shuffled out from between them and stretched with a yawn, the room around her had gone suspiciously quiet. 

Rubbing her gritty, tired eyes Belba blinked at the Dwarves currently staring at her. Ori, Fili and Kili seemed to be the source of the arguing that roused her while Dori, Nori, Bofur and Bifur looked on with varying expressions of frustration. 

“Good morning Belba!” Ori chirped and practically bounced over to the Hobbit, scooping her up off her feet and into a hug.

“Good morning, now Put me down you silly boy!” Belba laughed, which quickly turned into another yawn, she did not miss the happy looks on Dori and Nori’s faces nor the thunderous looks on the Durin boys’. “Why do I feel as though I have just been dragged into something?” Belba questioned warily as Ori returned her to the ground. 

“Ignore them, Fili and Kili are just jealous is all.” Ori said with a dismissive wave “Come, we’ve been waiting for you to wake up for breakfast!” Ori began to pull Belba by her hand. 

“Ori wait a minute, jealous of what?” Belba dug her feet in and looked at Fili and Kili as the boys sulked, refusing to look her in the eye. “What’s going on here?”

“This isn’t the way we wanted to broach the subject Belba but as Head of the family the responsibility falls to me,” Dori interjected stepping forward. “Over the course of the journey you have become very dear to us and if you consent we would like to take you in as part of our family.” 

“What are you saying Dori?” Belba was stunned, her mouth hung open as Ori practically vibrated with excitement next to her. 

“We would like to adopt you, as a sister Belba. If you consent, of course…”

“No! It’s not fair that you get to adopt Belba, we want to adopt her!” Kili shouted only for Ori to release Belba’s hand and turn on the young Prince. 

“Well you can’t, you’re not head of your family and Dori had already asked her.” He shouted back, clearly rehashing the original argument. 

“All in all lads I think it is up to Missus Belba, and I think there might be a lot more Dwarves ready to weigh in on this matter…” Bofur piped up with a nod to the stunned Hobbit and a string of Khuzdul from his cousin. “Perhaps we should leave this talk until after breakfast. Belba, you didn’t get a chance to use the baths last night would you like to now?” Belba nodded furiously, it was not a subtle escape but she didn’t care. Besides a hot bath would leave her feeling much more able to cope with whatever it was that was currently happening. Belba grabbed her pack and followed Bofur through a labyrinth of halls until he stopped at a particular door. 

“Belba lass, you need to understand before you give Dori an answer what it is that they’re offering you. If you accept the adoption you will become a part of their family, by all standards and protocol you will be a Dwarf with the rights of a full blooded born Dwarf. Family is a big thing to us, it is forever and we take our commitments to our families as sacred. There are many in the company who already think of you as kin but what Dori is asking is to make it official. Have a good think on it lass, on what you want and what’s waiting for you as a Hobbit, before you give an answer. 

I will try to get that mob in order but since Bifur can’t say it in Westron himself I’ll tell you that he is also fighting for the right to call you kin, Bifur, Bombur and I would be honoured to call you sister lass.” With a gentle tap of his forehead against Belba’s the usually cheerful and carefree Dwarf left looking more serious than Belba had even seen him. Belba hurried into the bathing room and locked the door behind her, mind spinning as she processed Bofur and Dori’s words, the implication of Kili’s outburst and how she’d managed to get herself into this mess. 

X~X~X~X

“It’s not fair, no one should get to monopolise Belba.” Kili grumped, crossing his arms and ignoring his breakfast as he argued across the dining table with Ori once more. 

“Just because you’re going to be a prince Kili does not mean you get to order everyone around and take whatever you want. We asked Belba and it’s up to her. Besides Belba is more comfortable with me than You or Fili.” Ori snapped; a low blow he knew but the young Dwarf was getting sick of Kili denying his right to claim Belba as kin. 

“That’s only because you don’t give anyone else a change to get close!” Kili shouted back; slowly more of the company began filtering into the room, drawn by the fierce argument. 

“In truth Belba seems comfortable with a lot of the company; she doesn’t seem to have an issue when Balin and Dwalin sleep next to her…” Fili reasoned, patting his emotional brother’s shoulder. 

“It’s irrelevant, we’ve asked. You haven’t and there’s nothing to do for it now.” 

“Well lad, that’s not entirely true.” Balin spoke up from his seat further down the table, overly large steamy mug of tea warming his hands, “It is not unheard of for multiple families to hold an interest in an adoption, though this is the first to my knowledge involving a non-Dwarf. There are several ways these matters can be handled, usually the ward would decide or if there were concerns a family was not fit to be appointed guardian then perhaps a duel. In Erebor it was not uncommon for the King to make the final decision or for families to simply share custody. I think it would be prudent to hold a meeting of the company, to discuss the matter and the opinions of various stakeholders but above all we must find out Belba’s feelings on the matter…” Balin reasoned, the younger Dwarves pouted but the older ones nodded at the sensible reaction.

“That may be a little easier said than done, our little Hobbit is a bit shaken by all this.” Bofur chipped in as he returned from dropping Belba off, he clambered up onto the large bench next to his brother and cousin. “You need to remember that she’d a Hobbit with history, if you don’t want to cause more damage you need to take things slow and make sure she knows what she’s in for.”

“Did she say anything to ye’?” Nori questioned, his eyes narrowing at the miner. 

“No but I did a little talking myself about what it means to be claimed as Dwarf kin, poor lass looked spooked.” Bofur scratched his head 

“Hmmm, understandable... Seems our Hobbit has not had the best of luck where Kin and family are concerned, she may be wary of committing to more when the last lot let her down so.” The company looked to Dwalin and considered his words even as they chewed mechanically on their food. 

“It is clear that we all care for Mistress Baggins, I think perhaps for now the best thing to do is show her what that means. Treat her as kin without putting a claim or name to it and allow Mistress Baggins to decide the pace, after all this needs to be something she wants for it to mean anything at all.” They were all surprised for such a reasonable answer to come from none other than Thorin Oakenshield himself, his first comment on the matter at hand though none missed the way he included himself in the claim for Belba’s kinship. 

X~X~X

When Belba emerged from the baths, relaxed, rosy and cleaner than she’d been in far too long, she was greeted by a smiling Bombur. 

“The lads have been talking while you’ve been washing up; they’ve all decided that perhaps they were a bit too pushy with the kin claims. Don’t feel like you need to respond to them now lass, or any time at all.”Belba nodded slowly, her breathing coming a little bit easier, “If you decide that you would like to claim one of the company as kin let them know by offering to help them braid their hair, if they accept then they reciprocate and we will move from there.” 

“Thank you Bombur…” Belba smiled at the round Dwarf

“You’re welcome Belba, our hair and beards are important to Dwarves so we only allow those closest to us to touch them…” The pair began to walk towards the dining room

“Then why didn’t Ori or Kili simply ask me to help with their hair?” Belba asked and was surprised when the large Dwarf blushed almost as brightly as he own hair. 

“If the lads do that Missus Belba, they’re” the Dwarf cleared his throat awkwardly “Being a bit forward, they’d be asking for more than kinship you see…” Bombur muttered quietly and Belba felt understanding begin to Dawn. 

“So asking them to braid my hair would be a…” Belba paused to swallow, “… a Proposal?”  
The sudden clattering of metal brought Belba’s attention to Oin who was staring at the pair in horror, his poorly repaired ear trumpet on the ground and an angry shout of Khuzdul on his lips. 

Before Belba knew what was happening Oin had her by the wrist and Bombur by the ear, both being dragged into the dining room. Belba had no idea what was happening as Oin burst into the room ranting in Khuzdul as Bombur spluttered awkwardly in the language himself. Dori jumped down and with a comforting arm around her shoulder led Belba away from the angry healer with a glare at Bombur even as an argument erupted around them. 

“What’s wrong with Oin?” Belba muttered as Dori bustled her up to the table. 

“He’s just giving Bombur a piece of his mind; imagine a married Dwarf and all!” Dori tutted 

“What about Bombur’s marriage… what Oin doesn’t think Bombur was doing anything inappropriate does he?” Belba jumped up, Nori’s calming hand on her elbow stopping her from returning to the circle of Dwarves. 

“Apparently Oin thinks Bombur was proposing to you Lass, probably a trick of his hearing huh?” Nori snickered. 

“He was just explaining a little about Braiding to me…” Belba said with a blush and Nori nodded, the star-haired Dwarf gave a sharp whistle followed by a few quick words in Khuzdul which had all the Dwarves laughing and slapping Bombur on the back. 

“There, all sorted, now eat your food Lass…” Belba smiled as Nori began piling a plate to overflowing with food for her, she didn’t comment on it but filed away his mothering for a rainy day as Ori poked his tongue out at Kili.


	9. Light foot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirkwood

Belba hated this damnable forest and the Valar Damned Elves which resided within it. Hobbits didn’t use the word Hate, Belba had never even hated Tobias but she Hated Mirkwood. From the moment the entered the forest Belba felt its sickness, this was not how a forest was supposed to feel, the way the sickness and forgetfulness invaded her Dwarves and made them slowly lose hope as their supplies ran low. She hated the eyes which watched them at night in the darkness so black she could see not see her hand before her face but she could still see the glowing eyes. Belba hated the white stag and the blasted river which made Bombur forget them all and sleep until his kin were ready to give up. Belba hated the spiders which took her Dwarves away from her and tried to eat them but above all she hated the Elves who treated her injured and starving friends like criminals as they herded them into the Halls of the Thrice Damned Elven King. 

Belba was however thankful for many things due to the hell that was Mirkwood. She was endlessly thankful for the Dwarves and their support as they lead the night blind Hobbit around in the evenings, she was thankful for her Hobbit instincts which kept them on the path when it threatened to lose them entirely, she was thankful for her sensitive hearing so she could hear the chatter of Spiders and Elves alike when they did not know she was listening, she was thankful for her sword which allowed her to rescue her Dwarves from spiders and she was even thankful for her harsh past which had made her light and near silent on her feet enough that even the Elves didn’t notice as she trailed along behind them and hid within their own halls. 

Belba had to be careful when moving through the Elven Kingdom, she was lucky that big Folk rarely look down far enough to notice a passing Hobbit, the Mirkwood Elves seemed even worse with their pompous noses so high in the air but Belba didn’t want to let her confidence get to her and make her sloppy. During the days when the halls were busiest the Hobbit hunkered down in which ever silent corner she found for herself, during the evenings she’d creep through near silent halls searching for Dwarves. So far she’d been delving deeper into the Elven strong hold and had successfully found Oin, Gloin, Bombur, Balin and Bifur. 

Bifur had been the first Dwarf Belba had found, she’d been following behind the elves quite successfully after Thranduil had finished uselessly interrogating them but she’d been forced to fall back when they passed another group of Elves coming in her direction. Belba hid and willed herself to be as small and inconspicuous as possible, even as she listened to a fight break out. Belba recognised the voices of Bifur, Bombur, Bofur and Oin as the loudest amongst the general din of Dwarven shouting. It didn’t take much for her to understand that the Elves planned on separating the Dwarves from each other, Belba felt her heart break as the crashing and shouting began anew further down the corridors until it faded from hearing. When Belba was sure the coast was clear she snuck to the cell that held one of her Dwarves, she wasn’t surprised at the time to find it was Bifur. She was surprised by the way he grabbed her, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders even as she tensed, upon seeing her. Once Belba recognised the action as a hug she returned the gesture and felt the subtle trembling in Bifur’s body, her heart breaking again and her anger towards the Elves intensifying. 

That night she stayed with Bifur, holding his hand from the shadows when the elves came with his meal and chattering at him when it was safe to do so and simply being with him. The next day Belba began exploring but she used Bifur’s cell as a starting point, she kept coming back to him to check on the Dwarf and tried to spend what time she dared with him. It wasn’t long before the language barrier clearly began to frustrate Bifur and he began to secretly teach her basic Iglishmêk, it was slow going but Belba had always had a talent with languages. Soon a routine was formed. Belba would spend her nights exploring the Elven fortress, planning their escape and gathering what supplies she could while searching out the company, she’d check in with each Dwarf she’d found so far for a quick update before returning to Bifur. He’d growl at her in Khuzdul and sign Iglishmêk while Belba tried to translate and chattered with more hope than she felt. Sometimes they’d simply sit with hands held through the bars as Bifur stroked her hair in a comforting gesture, it seemed to comfort the injured Dwarf a lot more than it did the Hobbit so she let him do as he pleased without comment. 

It was on the seventh day, Belba thought it was the seventh but it was difficult to keep track, that the Hobbit found Kili. Belba almost walked straight passed the young Dwarf but his soft sniffle drew her attention, when Belba looked into the dark empty cell she could just make out the shape of a body curled in on itself in the furthest, darkest corner. 

“Pssst” Belba whispered and the sniffling stopped, “Hey!”

“Go away” came a sulky reply from a familiar voice

“Kili it’s me!” Belba insisted with a bit more volume and watched as one water brown eye locked on her before suddenly she was again being pulled into a firm embrace through the cell bars. 

“Belba! By Mahal it is good to see you! Are you okay? How is everyone? Have you found everyone? Are we getting out? Have you seen Fili?” The stream of words came out in such a rush Belba couldn’t even begin to respond but they shook with desperation and fear in a way that physically hurt. 

So Belba simply wrapped her arms around the Dwarf and held him close, Kili seemed younger in this moment than she had ever seen him and something shifted inside her. Without really thinking Belba lifted her hand and began to stroke the lad’s thick brown hair and whisper soft assurances into his ear as he clutched her close and clearly tried to keep himself under control. Once Kili was calm Belba asked him about how he’d been separated from the others and which direction they’d taken, just as she was about to slip away Belba heard footsteps of the Elven kind. Instantly Belba slipped away from the cell and into the shadows, she noted the Elf had two trays instead of the usual one. Once he’d deposited one through the slot of Kili’s cell he began walking with a brand new, exceptionally short shadow. 

After that Belba made it her mission to stalk the Elves at meal times, she hadn’t before out of fear of being seen but they were so assured in their safety that the Mirkwood elves never considered they might have an intruder. Through this Belba found her remaining Dwarfs, many with similar reactions to Bifur and Kili though under the circumstances she put up with the affectionate manhandling and bumps to the noggin.

Thorin was the last Dwarf Belba found, he was being kept much further away than the other Dwarves and it was luck that she found him at all after getting incredibly lost. Thorin didn’t shou his surprise upon seeing her or pull her against him through the bars; he didn’t barrage her with a million questions or sniffle suspiciously. He merely said her name, whispered it slowly as though in awe of her, as though he were not entirely sure that she was truly standing before him and the sound of her name lingering so on his lips sent a shudder through Belba in a way she couldn’t explain. 

“Belba Baggins… you never cease to amaze me” Thorin said from behind the bars and Belba blushed. 

“If I were truly amazing I would not be standing of here alone but with a horde of Dwarves and an escape plan.”

“I have no doubt that you will do just that someday, I am impressed enough by your apparent ability to defy the odds and capture. Gandalf was indeed right about Hobbits, you possess the most remarkable skills.” Belba flushed and felt her stomach do an odd flip.

“Being quiet and short is hardly a skill set” Belba grumbled half-heartedly but sunk down to the cool stones and sat beside the cell as she often did with Bifur and the others. “If you’d prefer some company I can linger until the next patrol” 

“I’d appreciate it…” Thorin replied with a nod as he too sunk to the grey, dusty stone with a near inaudible sigh. 

They talked about nothing in particular, neither asking the questions which plagued their minds but both feeling more comfortable with the other in the shadows of the Elven prison than they ever had before.


	10. Truth in the shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep within the heart of the Elven hold in what was once the Greenwood two voices whispered their truth in the shadows of the night in a way they’d never felt free to do before

“It was beautiful, great works of art carved into the walls and gilded with gold and gems. Dwarves wearing intricate robes and gowns of every colour imaginable, despite being underground it shone with intense light but above all it was home. Putting aside the wealth and beauty of Erebor, it was safety and warmth. It was the place I was born, I grew and watched my family thrive in a way they never have since and losing it cost me more than riches could replace. After the fall of Erebor I lost my grandfather, my father and my brother along with more Kin than I could ever name. I watched my sister suffer through the harshness of pregnancy and labour without the medical care that she should have had or the comfort and security of stone walls. I watched my nephews go hungry more than once because there was no work to be had in a declining economy and promised them more.” 

“The Fell Winter took more from us than we had to give, the Elders and the Children were the first to go. I was lucky to be from a reasonably wealthy family, we had some stores and a sturdy home which lasted us longer than the poorer Hobbits but even our supplies ran out. I will never forget the gnawing pain of hunger at the base of my stomach; it’s why I insist on sneaking the boys extra food when I can. I never want to see or feel that again. I lost my father that winter, we lost so many Hobbits that we never truly got to mourn them. My mother was never the same without him, she faded and I lost her shortly after. I was too old to be adopted but too young to be left alone, it was decided that, for my own good, I should be married. My mother’s family fought the idea but my father’s family had been appointed my primary guardians and until I reached my majority they chose my fate for me which they did in the form of my husband Tobias.” 

“I still dream of the battles, the blood on my hands that will never wash off. My grandfather falling at the hands of Azog, the times I nearly perished myself and my brother’s last breath. The memories haunt me so I do not sleep often; it is why I take the longest watch. Dwalin knows of my dreams, he covers for me on the days that I cannot shake them from my mind. He is a good friend, better than I deserve and I repay him by leading him to his death. Even if we get out of this prison there is a dragon waiting for us and Orcs hunting us, this was always a doomed mission. I am sorry for dragging you into this; it was never your fight Belba…” 

“Some days I can still hear his voice and my body starts shaking, I can almost feel the warmth of his blood on my hands. I’d suffered through his abuse for years because I knew he wasn’t happy, I was not the wife he wanted and to top it off I was barren, he was denied what all Hobbits need… A family. I could suffer his drinking and his shouting, him pawing at me and hitting me but when he came at me that night, his arms around my neck I realised that I didn’t want to die. I’d been dying inside for years but I wasn’t ready to let go, to let him take my home and my life. I don’t really remember stabbing him, only the warm feeling of blood over my fingers as it spread…” 

 

Deep within the heart of the Elven hold in what was once the Greenwood two voices whispered their truth in the shadows of the night in a way they’d never felt free to do before. When the sun rose they would part ways and pretend that nothing had been said but neither would ever forget the feeling of sharing their burdens nor the secrets whispered to them.


	11. Concern

“What do you mean you can’t Swim!” An Irate voice shouted at Belba causing the Hobbit to cringe away from the anger before her but on Dwalin’s face was mirrored throughout the group and she knew she’d get no support elsewhere. “How stupid can you be? Riding on the side of a Barrel down a river when you can’t swim, and you only tell us so now?” 

“You wouldn’t have agreed if you knew?” Belba muttered, her clothes and hair still soaking wet as her eyes filled with tears. 

“You could have died Belba! Do you understand that” The gruff Dwarf growled, the others in the group nodding their agreement. “Look at me.” 

Belba raised her head to meet Dwalin’s eyes with her own watery ones, the anger she expected to see was there but it was overshadowed by something she had not seen in the Warrior’s eyes before. 

Fear

“I’m Sorry.” She sniffled; her voice wavering and suddenly large yet gentle Dwarven arms encircled her. 

“Never worry us like that again lass, what would we do if we lost you huh?” Belba nodded and sniffled again before letting out a rather resounding sneeze. 

Dwalin let her go to look at her curiously but Oin was already stomping over and put his hand on her forehead. 

“I’m fine, just a little cold…” Before Belba could finish several Dwarves had scurried about and began building a fire as Oin started poking and prodding the Hobbit while Belba tried to wring out her hair and clothes as much as she could while wearing them, the bronze at her neck particularly chilled. 

Every so often her frame would be jolted by a vicious sneeze or a shiver but she tried to ignore it, apparently the Dwarves could not. Before she knew it she was being led to the building warmth of a new fire, a softly furred cloak, damp but still dryer than her own clothes, placed gently around her shaking shoulders and a familiar hat placed on her head. 

“Really, there’s no need to fuss.” Belba said with a telling sniff, “I’ll be right as rain soon enough…” The Dwarves gave her and incredulous look and promptly ignored her. 

“Well I never…” she muttered fondly and gave in to their mothering, unaware of the true depths of their concern. 

By evening Belba’s cold had grown worse and she had begun to develop a fever, though they found transportation to Laketown with a simple merchant/smuggler the Dwarves were not impressed by their need to subject Belba to the cold of the river once more. By the time they were settled in Bard’s home, Belba placed in the bed of Bard’s youngest, the Hobbit was delirious with fever and the Dwarrow at their wit’s end. Hobbits were not as sturdy as Dwarves, a reminder none of their company needed, but Belba was thinner than she’d once been and paler by far. They knew she’d not eaten or rested well within Mirkwood and the lack of sun seemed to have taken its own toll, they feared for their Burglar, that they would call kin, even as the tug of the mountain pulled stronger than ever. 

Thorin, with the blessing of his fellows, took matters into his own hands by revealing the truth of his identity and their quest to the men of Laketown thus securing better accommodations, meals and most importantly medical supplies. Dwarves did not get fevers the way that Hobbits did but it appears men suffered similarly. The Dwarves took turns watching over the Hobbit Lass and fretting appropriately, Thorin however rarely left her side. He stood in the shadows of the room, even when the other’s cared for her and waited for Belba to open her eyes. The King felt powerless in a way he didn’t understand, especially as the small creature began to thrash in fevered dreams and cry out in pain. Thorin did his best to sooth the ill Hobbit, he sang her songs and wiped her brow with damp cloths, he spoke endlessly about nothing until his throat grew hoarse and when, in the dark of the night, she would sob in her dreams the King would stroke her hair comfortingly though he knew he shouldn’t. 

It look 7 days for Belba’s fever to break and even once it had she was confined to bed rest, her body too weak for them to move on. Thorin continued to watch over their Hobbit, despite the way Erebor called to him. The mountain’s siren song fading to the back of his mind when we was near Belba, almost silent when he’d listen to her speak and in the rare moment’s she’d laugh it was like nothing else in Middle Earth existed but them. 

Thorin knew he was falling for the lass, knew he shouldn’t but could not help the way his heart leapt at her smile or fell with her tears. The hot feeling of jealousy when she shared her laughter with another was not something the Dwarf had expected and yet he recognised it all the same but Belba was a widow. A widow of an unhappy marriage but a widow all the same and probably had no desire for another lover; it would be disrespectful to ask such of her. 

Thorin considered the pain she must feel, to be without her One and to be the cause of it. He could image no greater heartache, even as the burglar stole his own heart from him.


	12. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy - Fanfic Batman! a Double Update!

Belba looked around the dining room, the anxious faces of the Dwarves, and smiled. It was their last day in Laketown but before they began their celebrations Belba has asked them all to spare her some of their time. While ill Belba had dreamt of the days to come, a hundred different endings and a thousand things that could go wrong and knew that she could not leave for the mountain without giving her Dwarves an answer. 

“While I was unwell I had a lot of time to think, a lot of time to think and fret and think some more.” Belba said softly from her seat at the table, Ori sitting beside her and squeezing her hand gently. “I know that you are aware, to some degree, of my past and my actions but I think it is about time that you knew the truth, then if you still wish to call me kin I would consider it an honour.”

“Belba, you don’t have to do this.” Thorin said gently from the head of the table, nods rippling out around the table. 

“I know I don’t, but I want to. You have all been so kind and accepting but I need you to know the truth, know what it is that you’re signing up for.” She said with a self-depreciating laugh. 

“It won’t change how we feel lass,” Dwalin’s voice rang out clear and sure, giving Belba strength to continue. 

“When I was a young girl there was a terrible winter in the Shire; the worst in our history, and for which we were woefully unprepared. The Brandywine River froze over and even as we starved the Shire was taken by wolves. Those that didn’t starve fell to the wolves or diseases, my father was among them.” Belba felt the voice hitch but she forced herself on. “Soon Gandalf and the rangers came to help us, they drove off the wolves and brought much needed supplies but it was too late for much of the Shire. We lost a third of our people that winter, many of the elders has given their supplies to young families but we still lost too many children by far.” 

Belba saw her own pain reflected in the eyes of the Dwarves around her, they knew pain and hunger better than most. 

“After losing my father my mother began to fade, I am told that it is a process unique to Hobbits but the best way I can explain it is to say she slowly died of grief. Her broken heart was too much and slowly her body shut down, she died a few years later and I was on my own until my parent’s families stepped in.” The Dwarves did not miss Belba’s grimace. “I was almost at my majority, too young to live alone and yet too old to be adopted by another branch of the family. It was decided that I should be married, there were still too few children in the Shire and I had wealth, land and status which was more than many young brides.” 

“Belba, you’re not saying that... you were forced into it?” Gloin looked positively sick as the words escaped him and Belba looked up in surprise. 

“I’m not sure forced is the right word…” 

“Did you have Any say in the matter?” Dori sounded furious

“Did you love him?” Fili looked younger than Belba has seen him before

“Hell lass, did you even know him?” Balin shocked the Hobbit as he roughly ran a hand through his hair, face serious and angry, Belba looked away. 

“No…” the word was barely a whisper but it carried around the room, she did not know Tobias before their wedding, she had tried to love him but didn’t, she was only a lost and frightened child doing what her family thought best. 

There was a lot of angry grumbling and shouting from the Dwarves at the table, until Thorin silenced them with a single shout as he had back in Bagend so many months before. 

“Go on Belba, if you have more to say…” Belba blushed and cleared her throat as the attention of these wonderfully ridiculous Dwarves returned to her. 

“Our marriage was not a happy one and I can only think it a blessing from The Green Lady that we never had a child, something I had never thought I would say. On the night I killed him, Tobias had been drinking and revealed that he planned to kill me and remarry. I’m still not entirely sure how it happened but as he tried to attack me I stabbed him with a kitchen knife. I killed my husband and this band I wear around my neck is my punishment, it tells those that can read Hobbitish that death follows me and that I am not to be trusted.”

“Codswallop” Belba looked up at Bombur, the large Dwarf looking particularly cross. “Your kin are the ones to blame for this lass, marrying you off like that. I have daughters of my own and I can think of nothing crueller. We Dwarves may be short in number these days but never would we force our children into unhappy marriages, if he weren’t already dead I’d kill him myself.” There was a general grumbling of agreement from around the table and Belba felt her eyes well up.

“I think I speak for the entire company when I say that you do not deserve the punishment you bear or the guilt you carry, and as soon as the opportunity presents, with your permission of course, I would remove that band from your neck.” Belba smiled softly at Thorin and nodded, his acceptance meaning more than she could express. 

“Then with all that in mind, would anyone care for assistance in braiding their hair?” Belba asked hesitantly and was nearly overwhelmed by the please shouting and whooping from the Dwarves as they fought to be first. 

As it was the first braid was gifted to Thorin and Belba blushed self-consciously through the entire thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't I nice.... You know this won't last right?!?!
> 
> Chapter 15.... Just saying.... it will hurt....


	13. AUTHOR NOTE - ReWriting!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'M SOOOOOOO CHANGEABLE"

I'm SORRY! I've started a re-write from chapter 12.... to go more cannon... I will be making another story later that will focus on a friendship between Smaug and Belba/Bilbo but I decided this wasn't the story for it! 

I'm sorry <3 please don't hate me!!!!


	14. Unlucky for some

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RE-Write begins here!  
> C/W- Mention of old injuries & scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I got a bit stuck with my previous take on things in Erebor so I’m reconsidering and trialling a re-write. I hope you like it, it's a bit more canon now.

Belba felt like an idiot as she ran down the hidden passage, golden cup clutched foolishly in her hand even as dragon fire licked at her heals. The young Hobbit lass could smell the sickening stench of burning hair but did not stop to check if it was the hair on her feet or her head, the pain would tell her as soon as the adrenaline rush faded. Assuming she lived long enough for it to pass. The furious roar behind her sounded too close and Belba forced another burst of speed as she ran for her life, yet again on this foolish journey to steal from a bloody dragon. Belba cared for her Dwarves but they truly had rocks for brains if they thought thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit could take on a creature such as Smuag, they were doomed. 

Belba tried to scream as she felt her momentum stop, bands of steel winding around her waist. However it took her only a moment to recognise the feel of Dwarven arms around her within the dark, a fact that would have scandalised the respectable Hobbits back in the Shire. 

“Shhh, it’s alright lass” Growled Dwalin’s voice as he released her. “Keep quiet as you can, it seems you did a number in ticking off the Wyrm.” 

Belba could hear it; the roaring was no longer behind her but in front of her. Smaug had left the mountain and the Dwarves had apparently retreated into the tunnel to escape his wrath. 

“I’m sorry,” Belba squeaked, squinting to try and make out her Dwarves in the dim light. “Seems I wasn’t much help after all.” 

“No one expected you to take on a Dragon all alone Belba,” Bombur’s kindly voice sounded from the darkness, there was a general grunting of agreement. 

“Did you find the Arkenstone lass?” came Thorin’s, closer than Belba had anticipated and she jumped. 

“n-No, but I did grab this, it was a reflex more than anything though. I think that is what set Smaug off.” Belba said sheepishly as she handed the chalice over to the Dwarves to pass amongst themselves. 

Belba almost jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand fall gently onto her shoulder. “Come take a seat lass, I can smell yer burns from here” Oin’s voice was too quiet for the other’s to hear as he led Belba through the dark to a rock she could sit on comfortably.

“It’s nothing much Oin, I’m sure I’ll be fine. We Hobbit’s have thick soles.” Belba tried to argue but Oin merely cuffed her upside the head just as she’d seen him do to Fili & Kili many times on the journey, only much gentler. 

“I won’t tell you how to Burgle and you don’t tell me how to Heal, alright lass. Don’t worry about the other lads finding out, they’ll be gawking over that trinket you brought them for several more hours yet. “ 

Belba nodded and allowed Oin to examine her feet and calves which were littered in burns. She tried not to flinch as Oin applied a cooling salve but it was hard when she couldn’t see what he was doing, ever movement and touch took her by surprise. 

“Alright Belba, I’m going to need to see your back now lass.” Belba flinched

“Why? My back is fine…”

“Belba…” Oin’s voice took on that tone of voice that says he knows you’re hiding something and he’s less than impressed “You’re jacket and hair are both a mess, I need to see if it’s gone any further. So you can either take off your jacket and lift your shirt to show me your back while everyone else is distracted or I can get the lads over here to help. Up to you, lassy.”

Belba flinched again the blatant threat before conceding with a sigh. “Fine but you need to promise me you won’t say anything to them, it’s… it’s not something I want shared.” Belba whispered as she began removing her jacket, this would be the first time she’d exposed her skin willingly since she was a child. 

Oin said nothing but grunted an affirmative; Belba figured he was waiting to see what she hid behind her layers with the clinical eye of a healer. If Oin’s response was anything like the Hobbiton Healer after Tobias’ death then it wouldn’t matter what he’d agreed anyway. 

Belba removed her shirt until she sat only in her shift and trousers, her eyes trained on the dark mass that was her Dwarves squabbling over the golden cup even as she felt Oin raise the thin material at her back and a growl rumble through his chest and throat. It was quiet, but the sound of conversation still hushed and silence fell within the tunnel. 

“Everything alright there brother?” Gloin called and Belba cringed with humiliation, for what caused Oin’s anger was the tapestry of scars which covered Belba’s back. It wasn’t only her back but she wasn’t going to tell the healer that. Most of her body, at least the parts any respectable Hobbit Lady would not show to the world, was covered in old scars and burns. 

The Dwarves started to move forward, their concerns palpable but it only made Belba withdraw further.

“No you oaf, bloody dragon fire. Give the lass some privacy you lot, go back to your bloody cup.” Belba released the breath she’d been holding as the Dwarves turned away. “We’ll discuss this later Belba.” Oin whispered to her as he applied more cooling salve to the reddened, irritated skin of her back, where her hair and clothes had burned before he too walked away and gave the Hobbit a moment’s privacy to right herself. 

Belba felt tears sting her eyes as she pulled her clothes hastily back into place and combed through her tangled and burnt hair with her fingers. Once she had regained her composure she cleared her throat, not quite ready to stand. 

“Now what? 

“Now what indeed…” came Balin’s voice even as another furious roar filled the air around them.


	15. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to start from chapter 13 for re-write! Double post since it's been a while & I love you all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C/W: Gold sick Thorin

Belba looked at the armies gathered at the gates of Erebor, she looked at the Elves resplendent as ever in their armour but it was the men that truly stole Belba’s breath away but with horror not awe. The men standing before the grand gates of Erebor were pitiful in their ramshackle lines with improvised weapons, clothed in rags and illfitting antique armour or none at all; but worst still was that every single one of them was covered in thick, greasy ash. Ash which Belba recognised immediately and her heart broke as the only clean cloths to be found were those wrapped around angry wounds much like her own. They gathered behind Bard the Bowman and Belba felt her heart clench, praying, even as Thorin turned them away, that his children remained unharmed. 

Belba limped after her Dwarves, casting backwards glances at the broken men, as they strode back into the depths of the mountain to search out the Arkenstone; the very same Arkenstone that weighed heavily in her pocket. These were the consequences of their choices; Smaug was dead but at the cost of Belba knew not how many lives, the mountain reclaimed but was taking over the minds of her Dwarves as she watched them helplessly, Laketown was destroyed, the Men and Elves were ready to attack, the Dwarves were running out of food and Belba was losing her family all over again. 

She truly was a cursed Hobbit, causing pain and suffering to those around her. 

Hands slipping into her pocket and touching the cool stone within Belba made a decision, possibly a very stupid decision but it felt like the only option she had left. She would not watch her Dwarves die because they were too stone headed to see the truth, that though gold is pretty it will never fill their bellies or warm their hearts. 

X~X~X

“What have you done?!” Thorin roared and Belba backed away as he turned on her, Belba looked around the parapet for some kind of escape as she saw familiar rage filling Thorin’s eyes. 

“I took it as my share of the treasure and bartered it for your lives. There’s no food Thorin, you will die here if you continue this way… I couldn’t let that happen…” Belba pleaded, her eyes darting to the other faced Dwarves. Balin, Oin and Gloin had turned their backs, Dwalin watched on with a hand on his sword and eyes cold as ice. Ori was crying but unmoving even as Dori held him by the shoulders, holding him firm. Belba would have sought out the others but her attention was brought back to Thorin as his fingers closed around her throat, just above the bronze band. 

Belba scrambled in Thorin’s grasp, her airway completely blocked with just one of his hands as he lifted her from the ground and walked towards the ledge of the Ramparts. Belba thought she heard shouting, she watched Thorin’s lips move but all she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears as she clawed uselessly at Thorin’s fingers. This was not the hand of a Hobbit, this was the stone and steel of a Dwarf and Belba knew that if Thorin willed it then she would be dead. Head spinning, lungs burning and body weighing heavy Belba expected the darkness to begin creeping in. What she didn’t expect was the sudden clarity as the hand released her into the air over the ramparts and ultimately her death. 

Or that would have been the case if not for meddling, slightly over protective, less than punctual Grey Wizards. Belba felt her body stop, held aloft by some invisible force, before she say the familiar hat and staff. The young Hobbit felt her eyes burn with tears even as Gandalf stepped forward and plucked her out of the air and into his arms. The shock, fear and relief were too much for Belba so turning her head away from the Dwarves and into Gandalf’s great robes and began to sob. Belba drowned out the sounds of shouting even as the wizard carried her away from the Dwarves and their blasted mountain. 

“Be at peace dear Belba, you are safe now…” Gandalf whispered to his crying charge but the small Hobbit did not respond, she simply continued to cry.


	16. Fading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belba begins to fade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning.... Fading/Depression  
> My head cannon is that fading for Hobbits is a severe and physical depression, where the mental eventually effects the physical to such a degree they simply slip away  
> I have used my own experiences with depression to assist me with these chapters so please consider your own wellbeing and experiences before proceeding.

Belba couldn’t breathe, she felt the pressure of Thorin’s long since absent hand pressing to her throat even as she felt Tobias’ before it. The bruise throbbed painfully with every breath she attempted and yet she could not satisfy the craving for breath in her lungs, as though she were slowly suffocating with every breath she took. The Hobbit wished she was dreaming, wished that the pain and the fear were merely figments of her night terrors that would disappear when the sun rose but she was not so lucky. For as much as she couldn’t breathe easily nor did she find solace in slumber. It had been, by Gandalf’s words, three days since she’d been cast out of Erebor and she had not left the cot Gandalf had placed her in just as the Dwarves had not left their self-inflicted prison, she sat curled in on herself and waited. What she was waiting for Belba was not exactly sure anymore, was she waiting for her Dwarves to come and apologise? For Thorin to return to finish what he started? For the Men to burst in with words of war and death, or for the world to simply slip away? Belba didn’t sleep, she didn’t eat and she didn’t speak, in all the Hobbit lass had shut down and she could feel the emptiness within her slowly reaching out. There was a war happening within her just as there was one around her, Belba’s body and soul were fighting and in her mind she knew she should do something but she couldn’t begin to care. Just as any Hobbit would, Belba recognised the signs of fading and knew it was only her physical pain currently keeping her tethered but she didn’t care anymore. What did she have that was worth living for anymore? What was worth fighting against the echoing numbness within? 

Her Dwarves had been her anchor but they no longer wanted her. She was alone and without a home. She was a burden to those around her and without purpose. Belba didn’t move as the tears ran down her face and her heart throbbed painfully, it seems Tobias was right after all. The world was better off without her.


	17. A brother’s love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori.... is just beautiful  
> Double post again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double post to make up, at least a little, for the previous...

“Belba?!” Called a voice through the camp of men, startling the impromptu soldiers as an unknown Dwarf ran from tent to tent shouting for the Hobbit. The Dwarf got all the way to the centre of camp before he was intercepted, not by the guards keeping watch but by Bard the Bowman who was leading their makeshift army. 

“What are you doing out of your mountain Young Master Dwarf?” was Bard’s cold inquiry as he firmly grabbed the shoulder of the out of breath Dwarf, Bard remembered the lad and was surprised to see him unaccompanied. “Where are your kin?” 

“Let go of me,” puffed the Dwarf, out of breath from his mad dash “And show me where Belba is…”

Bard was surprised by the cold venom in the young Dwarf’s voice and was prepared to refuse him any such thing when a familiar booming voice took the words from his mouth. 

“I do not believe Mistress Baggins is expecting company young Master Ori, it is after all the middle of the night. Why are you here? Where are your brothers?” Demanded Gandalf as he strode up to the young Dwarf, who straightened and tensed in response to his words.

“I am here for Belba Gandalf, where is she?” Growled Ori, with more force than most thought him capable.

“I see no reason to share that information with you. Return to your mountain, she has suffered enough at the hands of Dwarves. Leave her to heal, you have your mountain. I will care for Belba.” 

“Like Morgoth you will! I am not leaving until I see her.” Ori stood his ground even as the air around Gandalf began to crackle with tension. 

“It would be wise young Dwarf to head my warnings.” 

“Not when you are trying to keep me from my Kin, I demand to see my sister and confirm that she is safe with my own eyes!” Ori yelled and in an instant Gandalf deflated. 

“I see…” said the Wizard sadly and suddenly Ori was terrified, he’d rather the Wizard angry than desperately sad as he currently appeared. “Come to my tent, we must discuss things before you see her.” Ori nodded, for what else could he do in the face of a wilting wizard who, in that moment, looked every day of his ancient life.

“You must understand Ori that Belba has had quite a shock, that she’d not quite herself.” Gandalf explained leading the young Dwarf to his tent while Bard went to discover how a Dwarf shouting at the top of his lungs got past the watch rotation. “Hobbits react differently to such things as Dwarves do, and our Belba is perhaps more vulnerable than most.”

Ori sat where he was instructed and thoughtlessly took the tea Gandalf offered him but he did not drink it, merely stared into the brown liquid. 

“What’s wrong Gandalf, why can’t I see her?” Ori’s voice was small, his confidence taken over by fear. 

“When a Hobbit experiences a great shock or loss they are at risk of what is known amongst their kind as the fading. It is hard to explain but it is like a hollowness that slowly takes over your body and mind from within, it starts small and then slowly spreads until the person you knew is no longer there, merely a shell. They usually stop eating, sleeping, talking or doing anything in particular. They simply waste away, as though fading from the world.” 

“Please don’t say it…” 

“Belba, like her mother before her, is fading.” Gandalf confirmed sadly

“What can we do? There must be a cure!” Ori jumped to his feet, the tea spilling onto the dirt beneath him. 

“There is no cure for fading, not in medicine or magic. In some it can be slowed and managed but it is something Belba will have to live with for the rest of her life, which at the rate it is progressing will not be long at all.” 

“No, no, no, no no! This can’t be happening, I can’t lose her Gandalf.” Tears fell down Ori’s face as he pleaded with the Wizard. “There must be something we can do, I’ll do anything! Please you must know a way to help her.”

“Do your kin know that you are here?” Gandalf asked, ignoring Ori’s pleads for now. 

“Not specifically but it won’t be hard for them to guess; it took me a while to get away from them all… I, uhm, may have ticked Thorin off” Ori refused to make eye contact with the wizard but the flush in his cheeks and the bruising on his knuckles was telling. 

“Alright, I will take you to her but you must remember that she is fragile right now.” Ori nodded and Gandalf rose to his feet and lead Ori to another tent, only a few metres away. It was a simple tent, just as any other, but there was a distinct heaviness to the air around it. When they entered there was no light but Ori would make out a small, familiar figure curled up and sitting on the bed. Never had he been more thankful for a Dwarf’s night vision as he was in that moment, Gandalf began fussing to find a lantern but Ori was already at the side of the simple cot, reaching for Belba’s cold, limp hands. 

The small Hobbit was paler than she should be, her curls limp and dull, her eyes vacant and unblinking, she’d lost even more weight than during the journey and Ori was shocked at how much difference a few days had made. Gandalf’s light, when if flared to life, only made matters worse. 

“Oh Namad, what have they done to you” he whispered as he sat on the bed and stroked a hand through Belba’s loose curls. He tried to ignore the brittle dryness of the hair beneath his fingers, and the way far too much came away with his hand but he could not ignore the way her braids were missing. His eyes burning and his heart clenching Ori began to brush his sister’s hair with his fingers and humming a gentle tune he began to restore her braids. Belba did not respond to his actions but Ori didn’t mind, she was alive and he’d help her to heal. Though as he lifted Belba’s and saw the bruising peeking out from under her coat his hand throbbed, King or no King he’d never forgive Thorin for hurting his sister or himself for letting it happen.  
   
X~X~X

At first Belba became aware of a warmth in the darkness, a subtle heat radiating from her back and side. It was a pleasant warmth that made her feel oddly relaxed and comfortable. Next to hit her was the smell; earth, ink and wool. A strange combination but it made her feel safe and protected so the Hobbit relaxed further, her mind drifting until her ears pricked at a gentle sound. It was a song, unknown to her but soft and kind, like a lullaby. The warmth which surrounded her vibrated with this song found she liked it very much, just as she liked the large hand stroking her hair. This hand was familiar and feather light as it moved through her locks, never stilling as it lulled her into sleep. That is when it dawned on Belba that she was not alone, and rather than panic as she knew she should; the Hobbit Lass merely gave in to the comfort of it all and let her self drift. It wasn’t the hazy numb drifting of before but a pleasant state of almost sleep. 

X~X~X

“Gandalf, she’s fallen asleep” Ori whispered at the wizard, his arms grabbed around the Hobbit laying in his lap and curled into his chest. He kept forgetting how small and light the Hobbit was until moments like these. Ori hadn’t really intended to pull Belba into his lap but after restoring her braids he’d started talking to Gandalf, his hands returning to his own lap. It had startled the young Dwarf when silent tears had begun to fall from Belba’s unfocused, unseeing eyes and he did the only thing he could think of, he pulled her into his lap and began to sing his mother’s lullaby. It was truly more Dori’s lullaby but their mother had taught it to him and after she passed Dori had sung it for Ori who know sung for the weeping Belba. The tears slowly stopped but Ori couldn’t bring himself to, not until her body relaxed and her breathing evened with slumber but even then the young Dwarf did not release his charge. 

“That’s wonderful Master Ori,” The wizard smiled for the first time since he’d returned to Erebor “She greatly needs the rest. When she wakes I will have some broth waiting. You must try and get her to eat, she has not done so for days and Hobbits do not survive long without sustenance. Her Hobbit energy stores were depleted enough over your journey, she’ll be in dire risk if she goes much longer without.” Ori nodded resolutely, understanding the seriousness of Gandalf’s words. They were Dwarves, if there was one thing they now knew better than the stones they were carved from it was the pain and risks of starvation. 

“I will do whatever it takes; I’ll not lose her like this Gandalf.” 

“Ah, the stubbornness of Dwarves, it’s all coming back to me now. Try and get some rest Master Ori.” With that Gandalf left for his own tent and Ori made himself comfortable by leaning against the side support pillar that the cot was pushed up against. He continued to hum while absently stroking Belba’s hair, suddenly a new understanding of his brothers and their often oppressive molly-coddling was dawning on him; because there was no way Ori was letting Belba out of his sight for at least a century after all of this was over.


	18. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does time truly heal all wounds?

The days that followed were anything but easy and Ori grew more concerned with each one that passed. Gandalf had brought news of Orcs and Goblins matching on the Mountain, the Dwarrow from the Iron Hills had arrived with Thorin’s cousin Dain causing more than a little havoc amongst the assembled troupes; Ori hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his brother or any of the company since he left the mountain but worst of all was Belba. Every day with the Hobbit lass broke Ori’s heart, thought she slept now it was only every within his arms and she suffered terrible nightmares. Though she woke she didn’t speak or move on her own, merely opened her eyes and gazed unseeing at whatever happened to be before her. Ori would sit with her, talk with her and sing to her but Belba wouldn’t respond, he wondered if she even realised Ori was there. Hardest yet was trying to get Belba to eat, she was in a constant state of semi-consciousness and it was like feeding an invalid. Ori would pour small amounts of lukewarm broth into the Hobbit’s mouth and rub her throat until it convulsed and forced her to swallow. Gandalf had showed him what to do the first time and from there Ori had taken on the responsibility but it didn’t matter how much broth he seemed to give her, Belba was still losing weight. He could feel the lightness of her in his arms and it scared him. 

Twice a day women from Lake Town would come to the tent and take Belba from him, he didn’t like it as we watched them lift her into their arms like a child, knew Belba wouldn’t like to be touched so by strangers, but he also had to acknowledge there were things her body needed that he couldn’t help her with. The women always brought Belba back to him about an hour later, freshly washed and wearing a clean shift but fresh tears falling from her eyes. These were the moments that Ori knew some part of Belba was aware of herself and he’d take her into his arm, bid the women farewell and sing his sister into an uneasy slumber. 

Dori had always told Ori that Time Healed All Wounds but the young Dwarf was beginning to wonder, Belba wasn’t getting better and he was beginning to fear for her. Ori knew he wasn’t the only one either. Belba had one many friends in Lake Town and the respect of many others besides when she did what she did with the Arkenstone. There were a lot of people, Elves and one rather push Wizard looking to Ori to make Belba better and he wished beyond anything else that he knew how. 

However as the Orcs came closer, Belba grew thinner and Ori realised time was not on his side. He needed help and was going to have to swallow his pride to get it. That day when the ladies of Lake Town took Belba away Ori gathered his courage and his anger and stormed up to the mountain. 

X~X~X

Thorin’s mind was clouded, it was hard to think straight and the more he tried the less success he had. Images were racing through his mind faster than he could keep track. Images of war, of gold, of starvation and a mountain he called home. Memories of those lost to him that he once held in his arms and in his heart but were taken by dragon fire or poverty. Distorted visions of fire and death, orcs and dragons and a Hobbit he once trusted. 

Belba was in his thoughts often and his body filled with regret and rage, she’d used his affection for her to betray them all and steal the Arkenstone. Never mind that he’d never told her of said affections, she must have known and decided to use them for her own gain. Whatever gain that may have been, it didn’t matter. He’d dealt with her as he should have, banishing her and throwing her from the ramparts was more than she deserved. 

But was it really? 

Thorin’s head throbbed with images of the Hobbit lass, her smiles and reluctant trust in him. The King’s heart ached fiercely with regret at the look in her eyes when he’d dropped her but then the anger would return and banish anything but hatred. 

“Thorin…” Came a voice, intruding on his introspection in a way that few would dare. “Ori’s standing at the gate demanding to speak with Oin.” 

Thorin looked at his long term friend and turned away, hand absently brushing his bruised eye and the healing, itching scab over his previously split nose, “Ignore him Dwalin, the lad made his choice.”

“Thorin, he says something is wrong with Belba, I know she hurt you but her heart was in the right place. It can’t hurt to hear Ori out…” Dwalin reasoned but Thorin would hear none of it.

“I do not want to hear about that Traitor again, they are either with us or against us Dwalin. Nothing else matters.” Thorin turned his back on his friend but heard him leave the room with a dejected sigh; they would understand the thief’s true nature eventually. Then they would see that what he did, he did for Erebor. They would all understand, in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Know, I'm a horrible person!


	19. In the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double post  
> A look to Belba...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C/W: Self destructive thoughts/apathy to death.

Belba was cold, cold in a way that she hadn’t been for some time now. The comforting, protective presence which always seemed to follow her these days was missing and the young Hobbit lass felt its absence strongly. Belba felt panic settle in as the biting cold spread further through her; she didn’t like this cold which ate away at her soul. It brought back horrid memories of endless winter and grief but was inescapable. Or so it seemed… 

With a gasping breathe, as though she’d been held under water and finally broke the surface Belba sat up in a bed that was not her own and yet she knew it to be hers all the same. The thin fabric walls around her confused the Hobbit but still she knew where she was. Her tent, outside the mountain, away from her Dwarves. Belba felt her chest constrict as panic set in, she’d been literally cast out of the mountain. Thorin had tried to kill her, her Dwarves had abandoned her, she was alone again… but that wasn’t true either. Belba looked around her for clues; she knew someone had been with her in the tent, holding her through the worst of her night terrors and singing her to sleep. The presence of paper, quill and unfinished knitting gave the answer of whom. Ori had joined her in exile. 

Though the tent was empty now Belba felt her Dwarven brother’s presence throughout it and a small smile touched her lips, not completely alone after all. Planning to look for Ori Belba swing her feet off the edge of the cot and swayed, her head spinning and vision slanting, it took her a moment to regain her senses but the Hobbit was concerned about the loud noises she could here beyond the tent. Shouting and crashing, she hopped that her Dwarves were okay and not getting into fisticuffs with the elves. 

On shaky feet Belba walked to the tent flap and drew aside the fabric only to let it fall back instantly, the camp was in chaos but worse than that was the battle beyond. A glimpse was all the Hobbit had needed to take in the murderous rampage of Orcs and Goblins, dread filled the hollow pit in Belba’s stomach as she stumbled back into the tent. 

Her Dwarves were out there, they had to be. 

Stupidly noble the lot of them, stubborn but kind and they’d all be right in the middle of the blasted mess beyond. Scanning the room Belba found her clothes and dressed quickly, this was no time to be laying down in her nightshift… or wondering where said nightshift came from… 

Fingers clumsy from disuse she buttoned her shirt and drew up her trousers, she left her waistcoat where it sat folded beneath her cot and drew on her sword belt and jacket before stumbling from the tent into the mayhem beyond. The camp was a fair distance from the real battle but was filled with elves, men and Dwarves alike tending to the wounded. A few tried to intercept Belba in her mad dash for the front lines but she was too quick and they were too busy to give chase. The Hobbit could not see her Dwarves in the sea of faces and blood but she could see Azog sitting astride his damned Warg and knew she could follow him to the Line of Durin. 

Belba ran as a ghost, mostly unseen by those she passed, Sting in her hand as she did what damage she could as she ran. Her height was her advantage on distracted Orcs and Goblins as she slashed at their ankles and knees for others to finish off. The few that saw her and tried to stop her usually made themselves vulnerable to those that didn’t, if they tried to engage her in a fight Belba used Dwalin’s number one rule of Hobbit Defence… She ran away. Belba was smaller and lighter on her feet than any of the others on the battlefield, she could dodge and outrun all of her would be opponents just as they knew she would not be able to stand up to a direct onslaught she knew that they had no hope of pursuing a Spider slaying, Dragon Riddling, Burglar-Hobbit should she not wish to be pursued. 

It took longer than she had anticipated but sooner than she’d ever expected Belba crested the hill where Azog sat astride his white Warg looking down upon his army, unaware of the creature creeping up on him from behind. Body thrumming with left over adrenalin from the dash up the hill Belba held her breath and surged forward, perhaps if she had been better rested or more self-aware she would have thought this scene through and remembered that though Azog could not see her, the Warg would likely smell her. So it shouldn’t have surprised her when the beast leapt away from her attack only to round on her and lunge forward, Belba swung wildly with her letter opener but it was no use. Thanks to the Adrenalin she was couldn’t feel it when the Warg latched on to her arm and bit down, she heard the crunch of bone beneath its teeth and felt the warm wash of blood and saliva running down her limb but the pain was delayed enough for her to release her tight fisted, two hand grip on the hilt of her sword and with her free arm, luckily her dominant right one, she swung the blade at the Warg’s exposed throat. 

Belba was thrown back into the dirt as the beast reared back, her blood soaked sword flung from her loosened grip but her eyes were locked on the quickly spreading stain of red around the Warg’s neck. Belba thought with some relief that she must have hit an artery or the jugular because the beast was losing bloody quickly and collapsing to the ground, she knew that she’d probably be killed herself now by the Warg’s Orc master but the Hobbit was simply glad she’d done something which would help her Dwarves in the End. Belba looked up at the surprisingly Blue sky, she was sure it had been darker before, and let herself float. Her mind was spinning and her breath was ragged as she waited for the darkness to come. She wondered absently if it would be blood loss, exhaustion or Azog that finally killed her but in the end she didn’t mind. After all, what did she have left to live for? 

The young Hobbit closed her eyes, her body oddly numb and cold despite the heat of the day, and distantly she thought she heard someone call her name. She hoped that it would be one of the Elves who finally found her; she didn’t want her Dwarves to think less of her for falling or less of themselves for not protecting her. The elves at least wouldn’t care; they’d simply mark her amongst the near endless dead and move on. Belba was glad she’d organised her affairs in the Shire, that her cousin Drogo would have a good home for his young family and that her share of the treasure in Erebor would go to those who needed it. It perhaps wasn’t the life she would have chosen but in the end Belba could say she’d done some good with it. She was satisfied, though she would have liked to see her Dwarves again one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY! I'm so sorry, it just.... wrote itself!


	20. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn of everyone's fate following the battle, Legolas finally gets some fic time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented, your words and broken hearts give me strength!

It started as a harsh cry in Khuzdul, a single voice raised in sorrow as they searched through the dead for the lucky few that might be saved or those they had once called kin. The Men and Elves in the silent field of the fallen knew not what was being said as more voices took up the anguished call, an emotional song or mourning some thought or maybe a prayer of some kind, but they could feel the sorrow to the core of their beings. Tears fell unbidden from the eyes of Men as they listened and the Elves looked suspiciously to the distance, at least until another call lifted to the sky. 

“Bloody Hell! Healer, we need a Healer. It’s a child! A child on the Battlefield, I think she’s still breathing…?” The panicked voice of a man caused a hush to fall over the survivors, no child should have been out this far and yet the man held aloft a form so tiny it could be little else. Elves surged forward with the speed and grace gifted their kind, though they were not healers but soldiers they would be more help than a single man. Amongst them was Legolas, princeling of the Greenwood, and he sucked in a strangled breath at the blood drenched form cradled in the man’s arms. She was not a child at all, but might as well have been for her short stature and limited years. It was Belba Baggins, the Hobbit who had bartered her treasure and life to save the Dwarves and men alike. Legolas gathered the bleeding creature into his arms, careless of his now soiled and stained clothes. He could feel her heart stuttering in her chest, her breathing ragged and barely there. Instantly he was running, one of his companions keeping pace with him to try and stem the Hobbit’s bleeding while another raced ahead to warn the healing tents. The Hobbit was not supposed to be out in the fields of battle, he’d heard that she was unwell and barely conscious but from the look of her stained and torn clothing she’d gone down fighting. 

Legolas could understand the Man’s confusion as he looked down at the tiny creature in his arms; she looked so very young and fragile, so pale against the stark reds and blacks of the blood which covered her that Legolas felt his heart tug painfully. Rather than head for the overcrowded healing tents, Legolas took the Hobbit to the tent he shared with his father and prepared to stand his ground and beg for the Hobbit to be saved. What he didn’t expect was to see his father, King of the Greenwood, with his sleeves rolled up, hair tied back and waiting for Legolas to place the Hobbit on a healing table which had clearly been brought in for this purpose. Legolas said nothing, simply thanked the Valar and relinquished the Hobbit to the healing hands of his father and the other healers flittering around the room. Knowing he was of no further use within the tent Legolas took his leave without needing to bed asked, after all there was still much work to be done in the aftermath of the battle and the there was no telling if the little Hobbit would even make it through the night, not if the muttering of the healers was anything to go by. 

Legolas was preparing himself to go back to fields of the dead and damned when a ruckus caught his ear, it was just a brief and soft argument to his ears but it was coming from the healing tents and involved an Elf and a Dwarf. Legolas sighed and knew that now his father was otherwise occupied it fell to him to address such discord. Levelling his shoulders and adopting as commanding an expression as he could manage Legolas strode towards the main healing tents and the apparent shouting match. 

Legolas walked swiftly, the noise rising in volume the closer he got until he found a familiar looking Dwarf, shouting at the Elven healer trying to set a badly broken arm. The bickering pair had gathered a fair sized audience though the loiterers did at least attempt to appear as though they weren’t listening in. 

“I don’t care if… Ouch! You bastard you did that on purpose!” Squawked the Dwarf as his arm was yanked none too gently onto a splinting board. 

“Well if you would simply sit still and let me work then it wouldn’t hurt so much.” Argued the Elf Legolas recognised as a fairly mild tempered healer whose name the Prince believed was Ailmere, though he looked more frazzled than Legolas had ever seen him before. 

“If you would just tell me where my brother and sister are damn it, I wouldn’t be in such a rush!” That’s when it hit Legolas; this wasn’t simply a troublesome Dwarf but one of the young heirs of Durin, Thorin’s youngest nephew, Kili, if memory served. 

Legolas shot a scolding glance at the few elves who he knew to have better places to be before he stepped up to the still squabbling pair. 

“Young master Kili, I believe?” Legolas questioned bringing the pairs attention to him. Ailmere blushed as being found bickering so with a patient but Kili simply eyed him suspiciously and nodded. 

“Ah I thought so,” Leoglas continued, “you are a fine bowman if I remember correctly, it would be such a shame to lose such a skill due to a poorly set break.” Legolas watched the Dwarf freeze and though he knew it was a low blow he could sense the relief in Ailmere. 

“I understand you are looking for your kin, how about I make some enquiries on your behalf while Ailmere sets your arm.” Legolas smiled kindly at the lad who nodded sourly but no longer resisted his healer’s touch. Legolas nodded to the grateful elf and turned to follow through on his promise, though in truth it wasn’t all that hard. All the Dwarves were attempting to find their kin and understood what Legolas was asking as soon as he mentioned he was asking on behalf of one still with a healer. It took him only half an hour to find the Dwarf’s equally vocal brother Fili, currently being treated for a number of injuries which needed stitching by another equally exasperated healer, though this one another Dwarf, on the other side of the camp. Legolas brought the young Prince news of his brother and he too settled but demanded to know of his other kin so Legolas was back to searching. He found Thorin Oakenshield surrounded by much of his company though for once he was blessedly silent, Legolas enquired after him and the gruff healer of their company advised the Elf that Thorin had been put to sleep for the healers own sanity but would make a full recovery. Legolas nodded and spirited himself away before the remaining Dwarves could ask him on further errands, he returned to the now splinted Kili and led him to the finally stitched Fili before delivering them to their Uncle’s tent where the reunion was loud and joyous. At least until they started taking stock of who was there and who was still missing, suddenly Legolas felt a lump rise in his chest as their relief and joy drained out of them.

“Belba…” The name was whispered from the lips of the youngest in their group, a small red headed Dwarf with colourful bruises contrasting pale bandages. He seemed inclined to rise but two other Dwarves, is brothers if the resemblance was anything to go by, had hold of his hands and seemed disinclined to release him any time soon, though he tugged uselessly all the same. “She should still be in her tent, she’ll be wondering where I am…”

“Ori, you are too injured to go right now. Gandalf will check in on her and once Thorin is awake again we will all go to her and apologise properly, just as he said we would.” Soothed one of the brothers, this one with grey hair who appeared genuinely saddened by the Hobbit’s absence… they all did. 

“Ay, we’ll go to her soon as his Lordship is up and then we’ll all be together again. As it should be!” the gruff warrior of their group shouted to a chorus of approval, suddenly Legolas felt an unusual squirming in his stomach. 

 

“The Hobbit is not in her tent,” Legolas blurted out before he could think better of it, when the accusatory eyes of twelve injured Dwarves suddenly rounded on him. 

“Well then where the devil is she?” Growled on of them, Gloin the healer’s brother, Legolas’s mind supplied. 

“She is with our best healers…”

“Healers!” Several of the Dwarves shouted in unison, jumping rather haphazardly to their feet. 

“Yes, they’re doing everything they can for her…”Chaos and shouting erupted around the tent causing Legolas to take a hesitant step back. 

“I think you’d best explain from the beginning Elf,” came the gruff, silencing voice of Thorin Oakenshield as he struggled to sit in his sick bed. Young nephews rushing to his side the Dwarf King appraised the elf before him. “You are Thranduil’s son, are you not?” 

Legolas nodded, “I am, my name is Legolas, and he is the one leading the healers helping your Hobbit.” 

“She is not My Hobbit… not anymore,” the King said softly as he leant on his nephews but Legolas chose to ignore the words clearly not meant for him.

“She was found by a Man amongst the bodies of the fallen, near the rise where Azog spent much of the battle and was at first thought to be a child. I happened to be close by at the time and with some help took her to my father for healing. I’m afraid that I must be honest and blunt, she was in a bad way when we found her and I do not wish to be cruel but there are doubts she will make it through the night…” 

The look of sheer horrified grief mirrored on every Dwarven face in the tent shook Legolas to his core, it went against everything he thought he knew about Dwarves. Legolas fled, as gracefully as possible, in the wake of their grief and returned to the fields of the damned where he could at least do some good and not cause any more pain.


	21. Fight

In truth there wasn’t much the healers could do for the small Hobbit, not that they didn’t do all that they could. In comparison to others they were healing the Halfling’s injuries were not severe as one might expect. Her left arm was severely broken and the skin shredded but in time bones could be reset and skin regrown. The major problems were the severe blood loss, her already worrying malnutrition and the trauma. Hobbits were not hardy creatures by nature so it was truly astounding that this one remained so stubbornly connected to the world when she should have long since passed to the fields of her mother. Thranduil had never seen the like of it and so he watched the Hobbit even after the other healers left to attend more pressing patients.

Thranduil fed her medical water which would help sustain her until she was ready to eat, it was not so difficult to make the unconscious Hobbit swallow but she still did not wake. The Elven King was afraid of mental trauma, she’d already been in a bad way before the battle but no one knew how far she’d been pushed during or even why she was out there. Thranduil wished, as he stared at her lax childlike face, that he knew more about her kind and how to help her. They all owed much to this Halfling and the King did not like to remain in debt. 

Gandalf had hinted before the battle that the Hobbit was fading, something her kind and his own had in common but with the appearance of her Dwarf the Hobbit had seemed to be improving so Thranduil left the matter alone. He did not however like what he saw now, that this Hobbit had been allowed to waste to such a state before a single Dwarf saw fit to intervene. A single Dwarf of a company of thirteen who owed their lives, home and so much more to the simple creature before him. Rage simmered beneath the surface of Thranduil’s façade, he’d lost his own beloved wife and had started his own fading because of it. It was Legolas, his only son and reason for living, which gave him the strength to face each day and fight to stay in these lands but judging by the scars the Elven King had witnessed and the callous treatment of the Dwarves Thranduil wondered if the Hobbit had anything left to keep her here… by all the Elf could see she should had faded by now but still she hung on and Thranduil continued to watch over her as long as he could. 

X~X~X

Gandalf could have felled the entire mountain when he returned to Belba’s tent and found her gone, trust a Hobbit to disappear in the middle of a war! When he heard the rumour of a child’s body being found on the battle field he could have teared the speaker apart with his own hands, instead he followed the rumours to their source and found Belba unconscious under the watchful eye and skilled hand of King Thranduil of the once Greenwood. It did not take a wizard to see the fine creases on the Elf’s brow or the narrowing of his eyes, it was clear that the Elf was not content with the Hobbit before him which made Gandalf’s slim hopes sink. Belba Baggins was a fighter but she was also a fading Hobbit, it did not take a wizard to know how slim her chances were but perhaps being a wizard meant that he could sway those chances in her favour just a little. Gandalf entered the tent with a sense of purpose fuelled by guilt and desperate hope. 

X~X~X

Oin had left almost immediately after they’d been informed of Belba’s condition and had yet to return, the rest of the Dwarves sat in silence. Their joy and relief over being together following such a harsh battle was quickly swept away in the face of Belba’s injury. Each Dwarf felt guilt and responsibility for her wounds, she should not have been on the battle field to begin with and they all shared fault that she was not protected. 

“Belba won’t leave us like this, not before we have a chance to fix things” Came the tentatively optimistic voice of Kili, breaking the heavy silence and trying to lighten the dread. 

“You’re right, she’s a fighter is our Hobbit” Added Dwalin. 

“Dwobbit…” Corrected Bofur with a cheeky wink to Fili and a smile for his own kin. 

“She probably only went out to save Thorin’s useless hide…” Groused Bifur; the salt and pepper Dwarf still reeling from the return of his speech and the loss of his Axe, which Bombur was holding on to for sentimental reasons.

The other’s laughed with him, all but Ori who rose angrily to his feet while shaking off his brothers’ staying grip. His actions silencing the room, his furious expression putting them on edge. 

“How would you know? How would any of you know what she is?”

“Ori…!” Dori tried to interrupt but the scathing look from his youngest sibling held him in place. 

“She was dying before she ever reached that field; she wasn’t sleeping or eating before I came and she’d been starving long before. Hobbit’s aren’t like us, they can’t survive the way we can but she fought to keep going right up until we threw her away” Tears were running down Ori’s face as he cast his accusatory glare around the room. “Gandalf told me that, when abandoned, Hobbits lose their will to live and slowly wither away until they die. It’s painful and irreversible and Belba was doing it, she was fading because of us. I don’t care how she got into that blasted field or why; she was dying long before that and all because our stubborn need for cursed gold and our hatred of Elves. Belba could fight this; she could fight anything, if only we’d given her something to fight for.” Before anyone in the tent could respond Ori stormed out, finally free of his brothers he went in search of the only thing that mattered. If he was going to lose Belba, he was going to say goodbye first. 

X~X~X

If this was the afterlife Belba could fully say she hated it, everything was dark and everything hurt all the time. She was constantly floating in a weightless pool of pain and nothingness with no concept of time or space. The young Hobbit had no concept of self or body and yet she knew she hurt, she couldn’t see and yet she knew there was nothing to see but darkness and Belba hated it. Once she had held hope that in the afterlife she would get to see her parents again, hold them and tell them how sorry she was for not being the Daughter they deserved but Belba supposed that a murderess like her would not be welcomes to the fields of The Mother where her family surely waited. So it must be here, in this realm of pain and nothing that she must be cursed to spend her eternity. 

That was at least what Belba thought, until she began to hear voices. Familiar yet displaced in this vacant place and all filled with immeasurable grief, surely not for her… and yet what else was here? The voices gave her back a sense of time and placement, so Belba listened to them trying to remember why they relaxed her so and yet made her heart ache fiercely.

 

(A/N: Medical water of the elves – basically like IV fluid but ingested…)


	22. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change is in the wind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SOOO SORRY! I promise I am alive and will be going back to fairly regular updates soon, I have just finished my final University placement! OMG WOW! So please forgive the lack of posting in the 7 weeks that was on....

It was days before they saw a change in the Hobbit’s condition and even that was minimal but those who stood vigil over her took it as a positive sign. It came about as a result of the Dwarven healer Oin arguing with the Elf left by Thranduil to tend to the Hobbit’s needs, each bickering on the benefits of their preferred medicine. Ori was sitting on the edge of the Belba’s cot and stoking her hair absently as he tuned out the now familiar argument only to be stunned by the distinct feeling of movement beneath his hand and a soft groaning sound. 

“Be quiet,” Ori urged over the din, only to be ignored “just Shut up!” He shouted more forcefully which silenced the room just as another gasping groan escaped the twitching Hobbit. 

“Belba?” Ori whispered hopefully, his finger ghosting through her hair. 

The Hobbit almost seemed to press into his hand as she sighed and went still once more, like a child returning to pleasant dreaming from a troubled nightmare. Ori just stared at his adopted sister, his hand trembling. 

“Seems the wee lass doesn’t care for our arguing” offered Oin with a conceding nod to the Elf healer as he approached Belba to check her over. 

It wasn’t much but the small change in Belba seemed to give everyone hope, the Dwarves redoubled their efforts with the help of those volunteering from Lake Town to get Erebor habitable once more, the Elves began commenting that their expertise was no longer needed as the worst was now passed and Gandalf began pushing the leaders of the three races to settle their differences and sign new treaties. 

All was moving swiftly ahead and yet a cloud still hung amongst the company of Thorin Oakenshield. With the exception of Ori and Oin none of the company had come calling on Belba, their guilt at their treatment of the Hobbit and Ori’s wrath keeping them focused on other tasks but their minds stayed with here and their ears itched for news. None more so than their leader, Thorin Oakenshield, who felt her absence in a way he had never expected. 

Thorin found he heard her scolding voice in his ear whenever he started tuning out his meeting or was ready to snap something rude towards Thranduil or one of his many minions. Her smile haunted his dreams just as much as her tears did, her faith in him until the end made him feel sick to his stomach. Thorin would give anything for the news that she’d woken up, he’d happily hand over Erebor to her if she wished it but only if she’d wake up to take it. Hope was not something Thorin was used to relying on but for now it was all he had.


	23. The road to recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou to everyone leaving kudos, comments and sticking with me despite my leave of absence! Here's another update with love!

Following Belba’s slight change in condition and possibility for improvement and argument erupted almost immediately over who her primary caregiver should be and where she should recover. The Company maintained that she should remain within Erebor, just as the people of Lake Town would do until winter had passed and the rebuilding of Dale could begin. The Elves, championed by Thranduil, believed they were best equipped to treat her medical needs than the half-starved and poorly supplied Dwarves, even with the assistance of the men. Thranduil also made a point of mentioning Belba’s trauma at the hands of the Dwarves and how this may hinder her recovery, which quickly halted the argument until it was pointed out that Thranduil’s Castle was little better in the realm of fond memories and they still had the darkness within their forest to deal with. 

In the end Beorn made the final decision by scooping the Hobbit up and spiriting her away, he left no room to argue as the Skin Changer collected her meagre belongings and began the long trek back to his own home. Ori followed with only a single glance back at the company, his brothers flicking their fingers in a subtle shooing motion made his heart clench. Ori was still angry with them all; just as he was angry with himself but knowing he had the blessing of his kin made it easier to leave them. Thranduil sent his usual Elven healer with them also and Ori was glad for it while on the road. It was still impossible to feed Belba anything but the Elvish medical water but it seemed to be enough for now, though they would all be happier when their Hobbit was awake and eating properly again. 

The journey was mostly uneventful when travelling under the protection of a Skin Changer and Beorn’s animals met them at the edge of his lands, Ori was exhausted by the time they arrived but he was glad that Belba would have somewhere safe and familiar to recover. 

X~X~X

It was a month before Belba woke up on her own and even then it was for short, silent periods but those times made Ori insanely happy. After the second month she was eating again, her arm was deemed well enough to be removed from its sling and Ailmere took his leave. Belba wasn’t eating much by Hobbit standards, and she wasn’t talking yet, but it was more than they had dared hope for in the beginning. Her eyes still held shadows but Ori would do all he could to banish them and make her smile, he’d spend hours with her talking about nothing as she silently listened, walking through Beorn’s gardens or sketching. As Belba’s silence became prolongued Ori even began to teach her some Dwarvish hand signs to better communicate. It wasn’t anything as intricate as the Iglishmêk which Bifur used but it was enough to capture Belba’s attention, Ori should have remembered her babblings about her education during the journey because once he started his teaching she was not satisfied until she had masted all of the limit symbols he had to impart and then began making her own. 

Ori was astounded by the change this brought on in Belba, he eyes were alive as he hadn’t seen them since he wasn’t sure he could remember when and her smile came freely but still her voice was locked away. Ori didn’t question Belba about the Battle, the Elves had warned him about repressed memories, but nor did they speak of the Company. As far as Ori could tell it was as though the entire company and their journey had been wiped from her mind, the young Dwarf didn’t know if this was the result of trauma as suggested by the Elves or an intentional decision made by the Hobbit but if he even tried to mention the remaining company the Hobbit simply smiled in a confused way, shrugged her shoulders, signed no and walked away. 

It was 6 months into their stay with Beorn that Ori broached the subject of returning to the mountain, he missed his kin and was desperate to advise them of Belba’s progress. He chose his time carefully, after dinner as they sat before the evening fire while he was brushing Belba’s rabidly growing hair to tie into now familiar braids. Ori didn’t expect Belba to like it but he certainly didn’t expect her response either. 

“Belba,”Ori said quietly, tempering his voice so as not to raise her tension “I have something I need to tell you”

Belba cocked her head in a sign of acknowledgement but remained pliant beneath his fingers. 

“I’m going back to Erebor.” The change was instantaneous; Belba threw herself away from Ori and scrambled to her feet staring open mouthed at the young Dwarf repeating her question sign. “Not permanently, just for a visit. I miss my brothers Belba, and I’m sure they miss us.” Ori reasoned but Belba shook her head adamantly and her eyes began to glisten. 

(why?) she signed, her hands shaking. 

“Because they are my Kin Bel, my Blood…” Ori knew instantly that it was the wrong thing to say even as he watched the Hobbit’s face fall and her walls go up. “Bel, I didn’t mean it like that.” Ori jumped to his feet but Belba pulled away when he tried to reach for her, the look of betrayal breaking his heart. 

(Go.) It was messy and crude signing, lacking Belba’s usual fluid finesse. 

“Belba, please don’t…” 

(Go.) Belba swung around, the movement releasing her half-finished braids as she stormed off to her room radiating a rarely seen anger. 

“Belba…” Ori sighed but left the Hobbit alone as he began his packing, he wanted to leave this week so he could leave and return before the summer rains hit and made the trails to boggy to pass. Beorn had already agreed to lend him a pony and Ailmere, whom Ori had been regularly corresponding with regarding Belba’s care, had promised safe passage and an escort through the slowly recovering Greenwood. 

Belba refused to see Ori over the next few days before his departure but he was glad to see she was eating her meals at least, Beorn promised to look out for the Hobbit in Ori’s absence but the Dwarf felt her fury deeply, at this point even staying would not save him from the foolishness of his own words.


	24. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori returns to the mountain... but what awaits him there? Will Belba be okay alone? Will Kili finally grow some facial hair....? You may or may not find out in this chapter.... because I can't remember what I wrote.... Happy December!

With a borrowed pony and an Elvish escort Ori’s second trip to Erebor was much different, and much quicker, when compared to his first. Thankfully this one lacked Dungeons, Smuggling and Barrels! As it was it took just short of a week before Ori was staring up at the almost unrecognisable Erebor, teeming as it was with life instead of ghosts. It was clear, even from a glance that the first caravan or two had arrived from the Blue Mountains and the Dwarves of the Iron Hills had returned to their own homes. Ori didn’t get long to soak in the change as travelling with an Elf still brought one a certain amount of attention, Ailmere bid Ori goodbye and left to return to his own Kin even as Ori heard a familiar Whooping of excitement. The lad cringed goodnaturely even as his heard Kili yelling from the top of the battlements for his attention. 

“Ori! It’s Ori! OOOOOOOOOOORRRRRIIIIIII!!!!!!!! HEEEEEEEEEEEEY OOORRRRIIIIIIIII!!!! UP HERRRRREEEE!!! OOOORRRRRIIIIII!” Ori flipped his friend off good naturedly before dismounting and leading the Pony towards the gates. He’d make sure she was watered & fed before sending her on her way home to Belba and Beorn, at least that was the plan until he felt familiar arms wrapping around him in a bone grinding crush some would call a hug. Months ago Ori would have complained but as it was he simply relaxed into the familiar embrace and returned it as best he could. 

“I’m home Dori,” he whispered fondly to his brother, “I missed you too.” 

Before Ori knew it he was being ushered through the crowds and thrown into the arms of various company members, he tried not to blush too hard when we was embraced by Dwalin though he didn’t think we imagined the small shudder that went through the other Dwarf’s form when he returned the gesture. That thought was put away for later analyses as they slowly collected more and more members of the company all with the same question on their lips…

“How is Belba?” Ori just smiled and shrugged, a bit as his Hobbit sister would do before insisting they wait until they were all together. 

Of course Thorin was the last to join them, Balin had to sneak him out of a meeting, but Ori tried not to flinch upon seeing the King again but this time dressed as was hi station. Ori really should have known better because before he could splutter out an apology for his raised words last they met or the black eye he left Thorin with the meeting before that the King wrapped his own arms around Ori with a booming laugh, the like Ori had never heard from the Dwarf. 

“Welcome home Ori, you have been sorely missed. Come you must tell us of your time away” with a smile which left the young Dwarf slightly uneasy Thorin lead the reunited Dwarven company to a large yet comfortable sitting room. The furniture was new and though perhaps not as resplendent as one might anticipate it was heaven for a pony induced sore backside and Ori was eager to sit, he was surprised when Bofur perched on one arm of his chair and whispered in his ear. 

“Don’t worry about the smiling, you’ll get used to it soon. It’s becoming less forced everyday as the Dwarves return and Erebor is set to rights.” Bofur offered with a smile and a shrug, when Nori came up behind him took over the conversation.

“Thorin’s had a lot on his shoulders but he knows that what his people need now isn’t the brooding warrior but the joyous and hopeful Monarch, he’s doing everything he can to do right by his people. Though you should have seen Dis’s reaction when she saw it, almost fell off her pony!” The pair started chuckling to themselves and Ori looked round the room at the concealed smirks of those who’d been listening in, which was most of the company anyway. 

“Dis has already arrived from the Blue Mountains?” Ori questioned, ignoring the unsubtle coughs and grinning behind beards. 

“Aye she is; and she’s a force to be reckoned with at that!” Dwalin announced with great humour, Ori watched as Thorin’s face fell into a something more familiar and less Jolly. 

“Yes, yes Dwalin. We all know of your age old pact with my sister to make my life miserable, but that is not the point of this. There are more important matters to discuss, such as our Hobbit.” The room became much more tense and serious and Ori felt his stomach quiver with anxiety “How fairs she?” 

All eyes turned to Ori and he ducked his head out of habit before steeling himself, even as Nori ruffled his hair and Dori squeezed his shoulder from where he stood to Ori’s side. 

“She had her good days and bad day, but with the help of Beorn and the Elves her physical recovery has gone well. Her arm is fully healed, though it aches when it’s too cold or she over exerts herself. All the physical marks from the battle have faded into the tapestry of scars she already bares.” The Dwarves looked at Ori in shock but Oin silenced them with a raised hand and a nod to the lad to continue. “It’s her mental health that we still worry for, Belba woke up after we arrived at Beorn’s, we got her eating and back to a healthy Hobbit weight. The fading seems to have been stalled, but I do not know enough about it to say so with certainty but she’s smiling and laughing again…” Ori brightened a bit at the thought of Belba’s smiles.

“Then what has you so worried lad?” Asked Gloin, pushing for answers they all needed. 

“Belba won’t speak. There’s nothing wrong with her vocal cords, Ailmere checked a hundred times, but even her laughter is silent. We’re unsure what she remembers because she can’t and won’t talk about it. She… She was not happy that I returned to Erebor, I wasn’t even sure if she remembered being here until she got so upset about it. Then I messed up, I hurt her by making her feel like she wasn’t kin because she’s not blood. I’m such a fool.” Ori shook his head and dropped it into his hands; he was surprised when an unfamiliar hand dropped onto his head and ruffled his hair.

“You mustn’t blame yourself lad,” Throin’s voice was softer than Ori had ever heard it. “You’ve done what none of us could have and brought Belba back, you’ve done amazingly while being on your own. Our Hobbit will forgive your slips of the tongue; you above all should know that.” Ori nodded and a more genuine smile, a reserved tilt of his lips, brightened his face. “I think, when you return to Beorn’s you should not do so alone. We need to rebuild trust with our Hobbit slowly and to do so I believe we should send some of the company with you.” The room was hushed and Ori realised that this was news to the others as much as him. 

“There is not point me joining, not only am I needed here but I fear my presence will do more harm than good at this point. It is my belief that, should all be agreeable, those our Hobbit grew closest to on the journey, who can be spared at this time should accompany you. Unfortunately, that means you may be stuck with both of my nephews on your return journey,” the pair hi-fives quietly, “Oin I fear will not trust Elven say-so and will follow you regardless of what I say, I would send Dwalin & Bofur with you also. Is this acceptable?” 

“No.” The groups turned to look at Nori, “At least not yet. Ori has said that Belba’s not talking yet, we should send the one amongst us with the most experience with that,” Bifur nodded in agreement and Thorin tilted his head in acknowledgement. “And there is no way Dori and I are letting Ori out of our sight again, so we’ll be going…” 

Nori was stopped by Dori’s gentle hand on his shoulder, “I can’t leave right now, there’s too much to do here and Ori’s done a fine job so far.” Ori blushed with the praise. “You go with them, Belba liked you… you and Bofur made her laugh, besides you can keep this lot out of trouble.”

Dori and Nori shared a meaningful look before the younger nodded and with that the mood lightened. Plans made everyone wanted to show Ori around and those returning with him had plans of their own to make. Ori would be spending two weeks back at Erebor with another week for the planned return, give or take a few delays, they’d be returning to Belba just as the summer sains came in which were greatly needed in Erebor and Dale but would likely render Beorn’s lands at the base of the Misty Mountains an Island of their own. Some might consider it cruel to force Belba into the arms of Dwarves she did not want to see, but it was important for her recovery (according to the Elves) to come face to face with her fears and/or feelings regarding the Dwarves. Since she refused to communicate it was hard to tell what she was keeping inside. 

Ori just hoped they were right…

X~X~X

The weeks passed quickly and before they knew it the rains had arrived earlier than expected, it wasn’t yet bad but it did delay their journey and make for uncomfortable travelling conditions. 

Everything smelt of wet Pony. 

However the Dwarves clung to their goal and the warm hearth they knew awaited them at Beorn’s, strange walking animals and all. Dwalin still grumbled heartily about that. 

However what met them upon their return was not what Ori had left and it quickly sent the young Dwarf and his companions into a panic. 

“What do you mean she’s gone?!” Ori shouted at the Skin changer, more than thrice his size as dread began to set in, Belba was missing. They’d returned to Beorn’s to find the Skin Changer smoking his pipe, watching the rain and Belba nowhere to be found. 

“Bunny left a few days after you did, she left you a message, Belba said… or signed really… that she Understood now, that she too needed blood. It didn’t make much sense to me but she was sure you’d understand.” Chuckled the bear of a man even as the blood drained from Ori’s face. 

He turned to the Dwarrow who’d accompanied him back, shaking his soaked hair in disbelief. 

“She’s returned to the Hobbits, alone.”


	25. Home?

The return journey to the Shire was not an easy one for a lone Hobbit but Belba had to admit it was easier than the Journey to Erebor, what with the distinct lack or Orcs, Wargs, Goblins, Dragons, Trolls and Dwarves. Belba deflated at the last thought; not all of the journey with the Dwarves was bad, there has been warms nights by the fire where they’d laughed or sung to pass the time. Travelling a lot, she found, was a very quiet affair and the Hobbit rarely risked lighting a fire, lest she draw unwanted attention. The journey was uneventful and silent, just as she was, though every step she took she expected to hear Ori’s disappointed voice calling out to her over the rough terrain to return. Belba knew he’d be upset, most likely hurt, but she’d finally understood his need for his own people and Belba did plan to return to Beorns… eventually. 

Though that thought was quickly washed away as the silent, travel weary Hobbit watched in horror as her home was ransacked in the name of an Auction. Righteous fury bubbled up within her and with all the poor manners life with Dwarves had taught her Belba unsheathed her blade and stormed up to the Auctioneer, a Hobbit she’d known most of her life. Without a word she drove the blade into the podium and watched the blood drain from his face. 

“B-B-Belba…. B-B-Baggins…” He squeaked “You’re… you’re supposed to be… D-D-Dead…” with a unrepeatable wail the Hobbit Gent fainted dead away and his audience abandoned their seats, just as the tell-tale form of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins came swaying out of BagEnd with an armful of Belba’s best silver. 

The Gentle Hobbit paled at the sight of Belba and dropped her load while stuttering, a twisted smile came to Belba’s face as she pulled her arm back to strike the other Hobbit. Lobelia screeched and brought her hands up to protect her face but impact never came, Belba dropped her arm with a look of disgust. Lobelia was horrid but she wasn’t worth Belba’s time, instead the Hobbit collected the fallen silver and walked into her plundered smial and slammed the door on her relative’s gaping face. 

Belba dropped the silver almost immediately and looked around her, wondering why she’d come and how her kin could do such a thing to her property. Belba was about to go find out when an image on the wall caught her attention, it wasn’t one of hers but a new addition. It was Drogo Baggins, her cousin whom she’d left the rights for BagEnd to in her absence, with his wife Primula Baggins nee Brandybuck and a small black haired faunt. This would have made Belba smile with happiness for her favourite cousins, a faunt was always something to be celebrated and Belba had known they’d been trying, but for the sheer black cloth which covered the painting. Belba’s heart fell as she realised why her belongings were being sold off, their owner was missing and their caretaker was dead. Tears burned in Belba’s eyes as she stared at their painted faces but before she could release her grief a small whimpering caught her ear. Quick as a lightning flash during a summer storm Belba was running room to room until she found the source of the noise, a snuffling little Hobbit faunt with Baggins Blue eyes and striking Brandybuck black hair lying alone in a crib which Belba recognised all too well. 

Upon seeing her, the child let out a questioning gurgle and Belba stopped thinking; carefully she scooped the baby into her slightly shaking arms and began to rock him, she would later find out that the faunt was a boy and that his name was Frodo but for now she held him until he fell gently to sleep and even then Belba refused to let go. 

X~X~X

“Mistress Baggins this is highly unusual, it’s not normal practice for us to authorise an adoption on the same day we legally bring someone back from the dead. Not that the later happens very often…” Belba levelled the Hobbit official with a level stare; she’d made a point of changing into more respectable clothes before stomping down to the Shire Officials with baby Frodo in her arms and a note pad and pencil in her pocket. 

The officials were as close as the Shire got to a legal system; they were rarely needed as the heads of the various families took care of most issues turning to the Thain or the Mayor of Michel Delving for anything they couldn’t handle alone. The Officials mostly dealt with wills, deaths, contracts, adoptions, archiving and such. It was mostly dull work but it had its place, which was currently in ‘Mad’ Belba Baggins’s way. 

“You must give us time, of course we will reverse the sale of everything belonging to you that was incorrectly sold but as for the child… well Drogo and Primula didn’t have wills or custody plans in place, young couples rarely do and it is such a tragedy. We understand you were close to them but you are un…” Belba raised a brow, regally as she’d ever done at his stammering. “I mean, you’re a widow without children of your own… it will surely be difficult, you’ve just returned from a journey. I’m sure the last thing you want right now is an infant… surely there are more suitable parent figures.” He was beginning to look exceptionally uncomfortable with Belba’s unwavering stare. 

Belba simply pushed her notepad forward again, same message glaring up at the Hobbit across the desk from her as she rose gracefully to her feet, Frodo tucked under her arm, and left the office with a newfound sense of purpose, pride and power. 

Behind her the words “Do what you must” hanging in the air despite never being spoken. Gandalf was right, Belba had certainly returned a change Hobbit and she found she liked it.


	26. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting is not something our company is good at... Nor am I for that matter...

Being in the Shire did something special for Belba, beyond giving her Frodo. Being reunited with friends and family, some she missed more than others, left Belba with a feeling of peace that soothed an itch she hadn’t realised she had. Also being surrounded by such a peaceful yet timid people made the well-travelled Hobbit aware of her own strength and the oddity she presented. Belba’s Baggins family kept a polite distance but her Took kin welcomed her back with open arms, begging for stories she couldn’t tell and rarely leaving her alone. The Gamgee family also welcomes Belba, as she knew they would, and helped her with Frodo as they could.

Frodo was a quiet but bright child and Belba loved him in a way she had never experienced before, the Valar help anyone who might try to hurt him. 

Life in the Shire was easy; really it took nothing for Belba to settle back in. Now the looks and stares she received were because of her adventure instead of her deceased husband, whose presence had almost been entirely erased from Belba’s home and life. It was pleasant and soothing, quiet and peaceful, healing and utterly boring. After a week, even with the adjustments needed for a 6 month old faunt, Belba was bored. She missed Ori, if she was honest she missed more than just Ori but she wouldn’t let herself think on it. Ori would have found out she was gone by now, he’d either return to Erebor and his kin or he’d follow her here. Belba had only planned to visit the Shire but with a faunt to care for she couldn’t risk the journey and so she had sent out letters to the logical places Ori might stop on a journey, as far out as Rivendell because no one would go further, to let him know she was waiting for him, but Ori didn’t come. 

Weeks passed and no return letter arrive, no gossip of a Dwarf sighting in Bree, no heavy doorknocking at dinnertime, nothing but silence. Belba had been sure Ori would figure out her message, but that all assumed he returned from Erebor to find her gone. The young Hobbit sniffled feeling alone and unwanted, at least until Frodo gurgled in his sleep where he lay beside her and Belba focused solely on him. She couldn’t let herself focus on the consuming loneliness, less her fading rekindle; Frodo needed her, just as she needed him. 

X~X~X

“Mahal Damn it! Remind me again why we are wasting time in Ered Luin when the Shire, and Belba, are so close?” Ori spat as he watched the others load up the last of the caravans heading back to Erebor, but no one responded as they all knew why they were there. They’d had to bypass the Shire completely after reaching Rivendell and receiving a Raven from Thorin. The letter had claimed that an escort had been sent but was delay and asking their small group to stand in their place until they arrived. The Dwarrows were honour bound to agree but Ori didn’t have to like it, not considering the letter he’d received from Belba. 

Under normal circumstances Ori and the others would have been happy to help but as it stood, the Dwarf simply got more and more worried about his Hobbit Sister. The Hobbits had not treated her well when she was last in the Shire, he had little doubt they would have changed much since she left. Ori feared for Belba, they all did, because he’d learnt what a cornered Hobbit was capable of.


	27. Never too late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A double chapter release: 
> 
> Life in the Shire takes a sharp turn when Gossips get out of hand... An old friend arrives to help Belba and Frodo....

It started, as all things seem to around the Shire, with gossip. Belba was used to whispers when she walked by so she paid it no mind as she walked around the market place with Frodo on her hip, but soon whispers gave way to ‘well meaning’ neighbours offering to ‘help’ her with Frodo or commenting on how hard this must be for her “all things considered…”

All things being her own life as an only child, her failed marriage, her general displacement in the Hobbit community and her previous life as an Adventurer. 

This too Belba ignored until more and more Hobbits realised she couldn’t talk back or defend herself, they became more vocal and less subtle until Lobelia let the words finally slip. 

“Unfit to be a mother…” 

The market had gone quiet at those words and eyes turned to Belba, focusing on the bronze band still shackled around her neck. Belba straightened her shoulders and refused to be cowed by these wretches, but she should have known better. 

The knock came the next day at tea time, it was heavy and forceful so Belba instantly thought of Ori so she settled Frodo into his cradle and ran to the door with a beaming smile for her adopted brother. Only, it wasn’t Ori, it wasn’t a Dwarf at all. In fact it was a cluster of Hobbits, with a pair of particularly burly Hobbit males at the front. Belba recognised the pair instantly, Marshall and Lucian; they were the same brothers who had stood by Tobias at their wedding, cousins of her late spouse and two of the biggest advocates of her punishment after his death. Behind them were most of the Sackville-Bagginses, of course starting with Lobelia, and about a quarter of the Shire population by the look of things. None of them looked happy to see her. 

Belba’s smile faded and instinctively she reached to the side of the doorway for Sting while lifting a queering brow. 

“Now don’t give us none of that Belba, you know why we’re ‘ere” Growled Marshall as Belba straightened to her full height, which wasn’t much compared to his. 

“We’ve come for the lad Belba; you know you ain’t fit to raise him. Not being the way you are.” Lucian finished, the brothers edging towards the doorway.

Belba jumped back, raised Sting in a familiar stance and glared at the pair of them while ignoring Lobelia’s overly dramatic screech. The scream however woke Frodo and at his whimpering cry Belba let her guard down, just for a moment and the brothers rushed her. Catching her off guard they knocked Sting from Belba’s hands and held her against the wall as she struggled. Tears fell from her eyes as Belba watched Lobelia prance into her Home and take the crying Frodo from his crib, at her touch the faunt only cried louder and began to reach for the restrained Belba. 

“It’s for his own good you see” Lobelia said in that condescending way of hers, the one that made Belba want nothing more than to Throttle her. Belba was just lining up to bite Lucian’s restraining arm when a new voice entered the room and the Hobbit felt herself go weak. 

“What in Mahal’s bloody flaming halls is going on here?” Looming in the doorway was the hulking, fearsome form of a Dwarven warrior, but not just any Dwarven warrior. Standing in her doorway, fearsome and cross as he had been the first time Belba saw him was Dwalin, son of Fundin and protector of the Line of Durin. Belba didn’t know what to do, she wanted to scream and cry and run away and hug the oaf all at the same time but more importantly she needed her Frodo in her arms. 

Due to shock Lucian and Marshall’s grips had loosened so Bela took it as her opportunity to slip out of their reach and tackle Lobelia and carefully as she could. Belba reached out her arms as she closed in on the other female and wrapped her arms gently around the faunt even as she barrelled into her horrid cousin. With reflexes honed from travelling with Dwarves Belba jumped to her feet, Frodo safe and happy once more in her arms, and took off for the safety of her bedroom. She didn’t need to look behind her to see the Hobbits scurrying away from Dwalin, she didn’t need to hear the insulted squawk to know Dwalin had thrown Lobelia out of her home and though she didn’t need to hear the “Belba, it’s Dwalin” to know who the gentle knock on her door belonged to it soothed her all the same. 

Belba made Frodo a nest out of her pillows on the bed, where he gurgled happily, as she answered the door. Before she could think on it or Dwalin could open his stupid mouth Belba did the only thing which felt right, she launched herself into the large Dwarf’s arms and refused to let go. Dwalin, sweet confused Dwalin, took her weight without protest but started to stutter and panic as the Hobbit lass began to cry into his travel worn tunic. Belba looked up with watery eyes and signed ‘Time’ to the big Dwarf, hoping he’d understand, before burying her head in his shoulder once more. 

“Aye, lass; I’m sorry I’m late.” He whispered, returning the embrace and stroking Belba’s curls until her tears subsided and the rest of the Dwarves arrived.


	28. Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thar Be Dwarves ahead....

Belba was curled up in her favourite arm chair with a strong cup of tea, thoughtfully prepared by Ori, warming her hands watching Bifur and Bofur play with Frodo on the warm shaggy rug as Oin buzzed around her poking and prodding while muttering to himself. Belba smiled to herself at the scene even as she ignored Dwalin and Nori, with minimal input from the Durin brothers, lament over the lack of security in her smial and gossip, for what else could it be called, about the Hobbits who had invaded her home. 

They had yet to speak properly about the incident, what they were doing in the Shire or anything of great importance. The rest of the small group had come in as Belba was pulling herself together and Dwalin shook his head and that was that, no questions asked. Belba has then proceeded to grab her nephew/adopted son and had astounded the gathered Dwarves with just how tiny Hobbits could be. 

Belba knew she could not avoid it for long but she had too many feelings in her breast to process. Love had been the greatest one followed by grief at the time they’d been apart, joy and relief at seeing them so well after so long, gratitude for their presence and the safety they offered, fondness and humour at the way they cooed over Frodo and their particular habits. These pleasant emotions Belba tried to focus on with everything she had but the voices within would not be silenced. The fear and the pain kept rising to the surface no matter what she did or told herself, the voice of self-doubt whispering in her ear always.

“You’d best let me do a proper exam Lass, we never did get to treat those burns as they should have been and not to mention that arm…” Oin grumped, effectively pulling Belba out of her thoughts and the attention of the room back onto her.

The Hobbit should have known better than to hope the Dwarf’s memory was as bad as his hearing, even as she signed ‘no’ she braced herself for the oncoming argument. 

“No is not an option Lass, you’ll be showing me those scars and any other wounds you might be hiding. Don’t think I forgotten about the others you had.”

‘No.’ Belba looked away stubbornly and placed her cup and saucer down to better use her hands.   
‘I’m fine.’ It was hard to sign with the words Belba knew the Dwarfs would understand, she was trying to avoid using the ones Ori had labelled as obscure, or they’d made themselves. That being the case the more accurate translations of her signing would have been ‘me. Yes’ 

“You are not fine, you’re still favouring your uninjured arm and who knows what other damage you’ve done to yourself since the battle. From the looks of those other Hobbits I doubt you would have risked seeing a healer even if you did hurt yourself…”

Belba rolled her eyes and signed to Ori because she knew he’d understand ‘Hardly a battle’ 

“Belba, what… what do you mean by that?” Ori’s voice sounded tight and Belba paused, her eyes narrowing. 

‘I Repeat. Not a Battle but a Fall from grace.’ Belba didn’t want to talk about this, she’d managed to avoid it with Ori for so long, but now she was stuck and he was staring at her like she’d just shaved her foot hair. 

“Belba, lass, what do you remember after the incident on the ramparts?” Bifur piped in and the Hobbit cringed, she should have guessed that he’d be able to understand her signing after so long trapped with only his hands to speak for him. His words however prompted a range of concerned looks from the remaining Dwarrow. 

Belba sighed and looked away, her heart thumping painfully even as her fingers made the now familiar motions. Ori had only ever shown her the sign once, when Belba had pushed, but she practices it every night to remember her fate, her punishment. 

‘Exile’

“Bel!” Ori gasped but Belba cut him off by rising to her feet with tears in her eyes. 

‘This’ she signed gesturing to herself, ‘is no longer welcome in Erebor, was cast out by Tho- The King’ Belba’s hands shook as she corrected herself, ‘I have accepted that.’ 

Belba wanted nothing more than to scoop Frodo into her arms and hide in her room, hide from the pain and the rejection but the wounded looks mirrored on the faces of the Dwarves made her pause. 

‘Is that not why you are here? To ensure I was abiding his will?’ Belba was shaking with emotions she couldn’t name as tears spilled heavily onto her cheeks, Ori looked like he was going to be sick. 

“Bel, it’s not like that anymore…” He tried but the words caught in his throat even as Frodo began to fuss for his bottle. 

‘Enough of this, he needs me…’ Belba signed as she scooped up the faunt and spirited him away to the kitchen and tried to ignore the hollowness within her chest.


	29. Divide and conquer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarves are not the sort to sit in stunned silence for long...

“Well she clearly remembers being thrown from the ramparts.” Fili groused bitterly, still angry at himself for not interfering in the damned fiasco. 

“Aye, but whether she remembers anything more remains to be seen…” Oin grumbled with a glance away from their huddled group to the door the Hobbit had disappeared behind with the young bairn. “The lass suffered great trauma, several times over during that period, it wouldn’t surprise me if her mind is blocking the memories out.”

“We also don’t know much more about the fading that what Gandalf told Ori, it may be common with the Hobbit illness…” The groups went quiet and looked at Kili, shocked by the seriousness of his contribution. Both brothers had matured greatly since the last time they stood within the walls of Bagend but it never failed to surprise when Kili said something sensible. 

“The lad is right,” Nori nodded, the first to shake his shock. “We need more information about what our Hobbit is going through, luckily we appear to be in the place for it. I will see what I can find out…” Before anyone could think to argue, not that any Dwarf there planned to or entertained the idea that their opinion would change Nori’s mind in the slightest, the star haired Dwarf was away and slipping out of the familiar green door soundlessly. 

“We also need more information from Belba about what she remembers, but Ori’s done too good a job with his teaching.” Fili groused, he wanted to help but couldn’t see much of anything he could do. 

“Leave that to us,” Bofur said with his trademark crooked grin as he grabbed his cousin’s arm, “We’ve the most experience in Iglishmêk and babes, we’ll take care of Belba until she’s feeling a bit more comfortable.” Bofur offered Ori an apologetic smile as the pair toddled off to tap lightly on the closed door. 

“One thing I know about Hobbits it is that sometimes a good, nutritious meal does the best healing. Ori lad, help me put something together for supper since you know best what our Hobbit will eat these days and Dwalin…” Oin looked appraisingly at the remains of their group, “Keep those bone heads out of trouble…” the harsh words were said affectionately and only caused mild squawks of protest. 

Dwalin nodded and dragged the lads off to do something constructive with them, Bagend was a fine home but it had little security for a young lass and there was plenty of mischief a bairn could get up to if given the chance. Dwalin had enough experience with Fili and Kili when they’d been tots to teach him what to look for as the trio began Frodo-proof and secure Belba’s smial. 

X~X~X

Ori watched with sad longing as the solid wooden door to Belba’s bedroom remained closed even as Bifur and Bofur sat with their backs to the wood and chattered aimlessly. Ori couldn’t hear what they were saying, wasn’t sure he wanted to, as his mind whirled with the implications of Belba’s words and their discovery here. 

“She’ll come around lad, give her time.” Oin commiserated as he gave Ori a well-meaning slap on the back before rummaging around the kitchen for cookware. 

Ori had flashbacks to the journey to Erebor and Oin’s cooking rotations with a shudder, the older Dwarrow having a surprising fondness for over spicing foods until it made the younger Dwarves tear up. It had never seemed to bother Belba though, the Hobbit happy to eat most of the foul concoctions with her iron stomach. 

“While we were at Beorn’s home Belba mostly ate sweeter foods, there was obviously no meat but even her savoury cooking had a strange sweetness to it.” Ori offered, thinking back and trying to ignore the looming door in the distance. “She didn’t seem to like anything too heavy or rich, which is quite different to when we were heading to Erebor.” 

Oin nodded as he began testing the knife set he’d found in Belba’s drawers, “Right, go find that larder she’s got hidden around here and see what you can come up with. We want plenty of Hobbity vegetables…” the healer said before rattling off into a grumbling assessment of the inferior quality of Hobbit kitchenware. 

Ori nodded and left to find the larder, relying on his memory of last time he was here, even as he saw the door to Belba’s room creak open and the Ur’s slip inside. 

Ori was disappointed it wasn’t him the Belba was reaching out to but he was glad there was progress none-the-less.


	30. Truth without words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Real talk happens in Belba's room.

Belba sat on her bed and watched Frodo snooze, he was content from his feed and burrowed into his nest of pillows and blankets. 

“He’s lovely lass” Bofur said fondly as he settled himself on the edge of her bed on Frodo’s other side, close enough the Belba could feel his weight dipping the mattress but far enough that he could not touch her unless she leant in to meet him. His consideration, for she knew his choice of seating was intentional, was endearing and appreciated. 

“Where is his father Belba?” Bifur asked, a hitch in his voice that Belba couldn’t place though she was glad to be talking about something other than their shared history. 

‘Both his parents are dead’ Belba signed, she saw a shared grief enter their eyes but didn’t comments, ‘He is the son of my cousin who was watching Bagend for me, when I returned I found him alone just as I was. I have adopted him. He is my nephew and my son now.’

The look in Belba’s eyes dared them to disagree with her but both Dwarves nodded, as though this made as perfect sense to them as it did to her. It made Belba wonder what was wrong with the other Hobbits then to think so differently. 

“Why are they trying to take him then Belba?” Bofur asked, he wasn’t looking a Belba but at Frodo though she was sure he would see her signs all the same. 

‘They do not think I am a fit mother…’ she signed with resignation but the harsh shout of Khuzdul surprised both Belba and the sleeping Frodo. Before Belba could touch her grizzling nephew, Bifur scooped up the faunt and began to pace, she left him be as it seemed to calm both of them and soon Frodo was nuzzling the elder Dwarf’s beard in sleep. 

“What have those Hobbits got in their heads? Stones? Dirt? Smoke?” Bifur ranted quietly to himself and Frodo, “To think they have any right to say such a thing when you were left on your own… Clearly the fools have no brains at all to think there would be a better person to save you than Belba.” Belba blushed but said nothing, she refused to look either Dwarf in the eye but where Bifur paced and grumbled Bofur had gone still and silent, his face tense and red. 

“Our Belba, she will be a wonderful mother to you” Bifur went on, speaking to the sleeping Frodo, “She is strong and fierce as only a mother can be, she will protect you from any that mean you harm. Your new mother saved thirteen foolish, battle hardened Dwarves from Trolls, Goblins, Elves, orcs and most terrifyingly themselves. Be warned, she can be a right fright when she wants to be but no one has a bigger heart.” 

Belba felt tears in her eyes at the honesty of Bifur’s words and signed slowly ‘I’m not as great as all that, but I will love him with all I have…’ 

“You are all that and so much more Belba Baggins” Bofur whispered but the Hobbit felt a chill run down her spine, she had never heard the usually cheerful Dwarf sound so cold and angry. So vicious and dangerous. Belba knew it wasn’t directed at her and yet the hairs on her feet stood on end all the same. “They do not deserve you, if they fail to see all that.” Bofur stood from his seat on the bed and stormed out of the room, Belba followed him with her eyes but as usual said nothing. 

Bifur broke the silence following his cousin’s departure. 

“It has not been easy on him Belba, it hasn’t been easy on any of us dealing with the guilt of what we did and not knowing how you faired.” Belba tried to start signing but Bifur gave her a look that stilled her busy fingers, “Bofur took it hardest I think, hated himself for not standing up for you on the Ramparts, for not following you as Ori did, for not watching for you on the Battlefield… His guilt has been eating away at him for months, he was so happy to hear he’d be joining Ori to see you again and apologise but you weren’t there…”

Belba looked at Bifur rocking Frodo back and forth with a sad smile.

“Belba no one know what you remember and we’re all worried about you, we don’t know what happened to you after Gandalf took you away from the ramparts but there was a battle Belba. They’re calling it the Battle of Five Armies and it was horrific. We Dwarves joined together with the Men and the Elves to fight off an Orc and Goblin army led by Azog…” 

Belba’s head slowly began to pound as Bifur spoke, images of tents, mud, bodies and blood flashing before her eyes. She felt her stomach churning and her arm seared with pain, she tried to sign to Bifur to stop but her body was frozen, her eyes desperately seeking his in her panic but he was looking at her nephew.

“You were found in the middle of the battlefield, no one knows how you got there but we’re so thankful you were found.” 

A flash of silver, an overwhelming white shadow and then a flood of red…

“You were injured and unconscious, no one knew if you’d make it. Legolas ran you to camp and Thranduil treated you but we didn’t hold much hope.”

Seering pain, overwhelming darkness… Belba couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move, she was losing her sight to flashes of old forgotten memories and her ears were ringing.

“Ori was beside himself, he told us you were fading Belba… that in the ways of the Hobbits we’d killed you…Belba… Belba?! Oin get in here, there’s something wrong!”

Belba felt hands grabbing her and a sharp sting across her cheek which made her gasp, the sudden surge of oxygen into her starved lunge clearing her vision for a moment before making her world tilt dangerously. Belba could hear voices talking, shouting, whispering around her but she couldn’t make out what they were saying, her eyes landed on Frodo and seeing he was still asleep in Bifur’s arms brought a smile to her face even as she slipped into darkness.


	31. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dawn approaches, Dwarves talk and Belba comes around. 
> 
> Also there is a feedback request with this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! Thankyou for sticking with me and Belba! I'm getting ready to move this Story towards its end but I need a bit of feedback on which track to take! I want, nay I demand, to see Belba have her Happy-Ever-After but!!! What I want to know is where do you, the readers, see that happening? In the Shire, In Erebor, With Beorn? Dale? Rivendell? Greenwood? Somewhere else entirely?! 
> 
> I want to know what you'd like to see happen to your favourite Hobbit! and her faunt, so that she can truly heal! <3 
> 
> The more I hear from you the sooner I will be able to write ;)

“What did you do?” Ori roared as he threw himself at Bifur, but stopped when he noted the babe in the other’s arms. He cringed physically when he heard the loud crack or Oin’s hand across Belba’s cheek but the gasping breath she took was music to his ears. 

Ori had run in with Oin to see Belba, still and unresponsive, her skin flushed strangely and her lips turning blue. She wasn’t breathing and suddenly neither was Ori.

“I was only talking, talking about what happened… Oin is she alright?” Bifur was vibrating with nervous energy even as Oin lay Belba down in her bed. 

“She’s fainted, probably the best thing for her as it’s brought her breathing back to normal. Without being here, or talking to her, I’d figure it to be a panic attack. Confirms my suspicions that she doesn’t remember the battle, we’ll need to tread gently with her. Illness of the mind is a tricky business, as well we know.” Oin gave them all a look and they filed quietly, deflated, out of the room to let their Hobbit rest. 

Ori was last to go and placed a gentle kiss on Belba’s brow as he tucked her in, he wasn’t sure if remembering was such a good thing for his Hobbit sister. 

X~X~X 

It was nearly dawn when Nori slipped back in through the round green door, he found the atmosphere of the smial suitably subdued and everyone gathered around the fire in silence, everyone but their Hobbit and his brother. 

“What’s happened?” he asked, effectively announcing his presence but all were too engrossed in their own thoughts to react much more than a surprised nod. 

“Belba had an episode,” Kili offered. “Seems she doesn’t remember the battle after all, we’re all taking turns to sit with her but Ori’s refusing to switch.”

“Probably just as well,” Nori nodded and joined them before the fire, “I’m afraid I don’t have the best news.”

Though they didn’t move nor change in anyway Nori felt the air become more charged, he had the full attention of every Dwarrow within the room. 

“I found some information on this fading, much of it however seems to be orally recorded not written though. What I have found however claims that it is rarely reversible though can be slowed or delayed if the will is strong enough. It seems fading is most common after the loss of a loved one or spouse and is explained as the process of dying slowly from a broken heart.” Nori paused, considering his next words. 

“It seems to be a condition they share with the Elves…”

“Then we will write to them for advice!” Kili perked up but Nori shot him a look which had him looking like a kicked pup. 

“And… Belba’s mother passed of the fading.”

“Nori!” The room stilled further at Ori’s panicked shout. 

Nori turned around slowly to see Belba, now dressed in her night gown and robe, standing in the hallway with wide sad eyes and Ori’s arms keeping her up. Nori expected her to run back to her room, or throw something at him but as ever Belba Baggins continued to surprise him by squaring and stomping into her study. With less grace than Nori was used to seeing from the Hobbit lass she scrambled onto a chair and reached up to open a high cabinet the Dwarves had not previously noticed. From it Belba removed a crystal decanter and a large matching glass which she placed carefully onto her lovely wooden desk. Nori couldn’t recognise the liquid but he said nothing as she over filled the glass and emptied a moment later causing the small Hobbit to shudder. 

Belba filled the glass once more before turning to the fireplace and commandeering her preferred seat from Dwalin, who in turn kicked Fili onto the floor much to his brother’s amusement. She took a slower, steadier sip of the strange clear liquid before she rested it on the nearby table and freed her hands. Bofur translated as she signed with Ori chipping in any of their own creations. 

“Indeed, my mother faded after my father passed, I’m not sure how you found out but I should have known better than to be surprised” Belba looked pointedly at Nori as he ducked his head. 

“And yes, it appears I am following in my mother’s footsteps by fading myself. Though now that I have Frodo I will fight it just as she once did for me. I will see him to his Majority and hopefully beyond before it takes me from him, I will not see him abandoned to those…”

“‘Vultures’ would be the best translation…” Ori offered with a blush in response to Belba’s glare. 

“There is nothing to be done now it has begun and I have accepted that.” Belba shrugged as Bofur finished his translation. 

“You may have accepted your death sentence Belba but we have not.” Fili decreed resolutely. “We will find a way…”

“For what purpose princeling?” the room snickered and Belba’s deliberate choice of title which cause Fili to squawk. “Aside from caring for Frodo, I have no purpose anymore. No family, even my blood kin do not want me. Things that have no purpose fade, they re-join those they love with the mother.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Belba,” Belba was surprised to hear the sadness in Oin’s voice, he seemed older than she’d remembered. “We need you, the company needs you. Erebor needs you and so does Thorin.” Belba shook her head in the negative but stopped when the healer looked at her with disappointment. 

“Lass, you know as well as I do that Thorin cared for you a great deal over the course of the journey. You also know, though perhaps you don’t remember well enough, that he was not in his right mind when we reached the mountain. It is no excuse for what he did, what We did, but not a day goes by that he doesn’t regret it.”

‘They always regret it, until they get angry again…’ Belba signed bitterly

“True enough lass but he’s a better Dwarf now. He did not send us to bring you back or make sure you stayed away, he asked us to visit to ensure your wellbeing and happiness and to give us a chance that he does not believe himself worthy of.” 

“I will consider this… and, if you still insist upon it, I will consent to your exam… something is not right.” 

Oin nodded and rose gradually to his feet as Belba downed the last of her drink, when Ori tried to help her and follow she shot him a warning glare and walked to bathroom looking as though she was ready for war. Oin followed with a long-suffering sigh but picked up his pack along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to send me a message or a comment letting me know where you think our Belba should go from here and just where she might find her lasting happiness! <3


	32. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> C/W: Belba explains some of her scars and the abuse which put them there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C/W: Belba explains some of her scars and the abuse which put them there.

Belba wanted nothing more than to run away but Oin would not give up until he’d check for himself that she was healthy, and she was no longer sure that she was. The two glasses of Gaffa Gamgee’s moonshine had helped to take off the edge enough that she’d consented but Belba was still hesitant, she didn’t care much for healers with their cold hands and probing questions.

Oin followed her in and closed the door behind him before locking it, for her privacy of course Belba thought bitterly. Oin was a good healer, she knew that and she knew he was trying to show that he cared in his own way but she didn’t have to like it. 

With a resolute sigh Belba took of her robe and hung it over the old wooden chair she now left in the washroom, it made things easier when Frodo began to fuss. Oin said nothing as she took her time but there were not enough layers to procrastinate with and before she knew it she was standing before the healer in only her small clothes and refusing to look him in the eye. 

To his credit Oin kept his face neutral but could not help the tense energy which entered his frame but being a doctor, he started with the injury he’d come to check. With gentle pressure, he began examining Belba’s arm, she’d always assumed it had been damaged in her fall from the ramparts but now she wondered if that was indeed the case. 

“I wish you could tell me more about this wound Belba, it seems mightily like a Warg bite to me.” A flash of white and red danced across Belba’s mind before she shook her head and shrugged. “As much as I hate to admit it that damned elf did a passable job setting it, there seems to be no muscle or ligament damage and only minimal scaring for the damage I remember.”

‘Remember…?’ Belba signed in confusion. 

“Aye, the Elves may have got to you first but I helped tend to you after you were injured. Before Ori and Beorn spirited you away at least.” 

That was news to Belba, she’d always thought that Ori was the only Dwarf who still cared for her after the Arkenstone but she also did not know Oin to lie to her… ever. 

“Now show me your throat lass, sit in that chair and open your mouth wide. Try to breathe out and say ahh”

Belba nodded, sat and opened her mouth. She felt the air build in her lungs and she blew it out of her throat trying to make sound but all that came was the huff of air escaping, just as always. 

Oin looked inside her mouth and gently massaged her throat, looking for something that she knew he wouldn’t find until his hands came to rest on the damned band around her throat. 

“We should have removed this the moment we arrived at Erebor,” Oin muttered to himself before leaving Belba’s neck and turning instead to her back. 

Despite her anticipation of the touch Belba could not supress the flinch which followed as Oin gently probed the old scars on her back, the freshest of which was the now healed, misshapen burn from Erebor. “Should have done more…”

The scars along Belba’s back were not pretty, they were not even or clean or remotely artistic. The Hobbit knew that many Dwarves believed scars to be a showing of strength and victory but no Dwarf would see beauty in her marks. 

There was not an inch of clean, unraised skin along her back and Belba could tell the story of each of them and before Oin asked she began to. His finger trailed from the Smaug burn to an older, larger one that was visible underneath it and continued down majority of her back and legs.

‘He was drunk, dinner was late. He lost his temper and threw the boiling pot at me when I tried to leave. I stopped trying to leave after that.’ Belba signed, she didn’t care if the healer saw it or not but felt she should explain. Her throat felt tight and her chest seized as he moved to a series of evenly spaced cuts which ran haphazardly down her side. 

‘Grater, knocked it and other thing onto the floor and dragged me over them… many of the smaller ones are from then.’ 

“These did not heal well, you did not seek medical attention.” It was not a question but Belba shook her head in confirmation all the same. 

“He was a right bastard your husband” Oin gruffed and Belba raised her head in a soundless laugh, she hadn’t even realised she was crying until the healer pulled her into his arms. Belba shook for a moment until the floodgates opened and her body heaved with great shaking sobs. 

Oin said nothing as Belba broke to pieces in his arms, merely held her together as best he could and stroked her hair to calm her when her breathing became ragged, forced hiccups. 

Belba’s husband was lucky he was dead because in this moment Oin had never wanted to break his word as a healer more. To see such a strong creature brought so low by another hit something deep in Oin, and they had yet to even scratch the surface of the scars which covered every inch of skin usually hidden by prim and proper Hobbity attire. 

X~X~X

When Belba’s tears had dried Oin left her to calm herself, bathe and re-dress which she did methodically. Somehow it felt like a weight had been lifted from her with the loss of her tears and secrecy, she had expected Oin to be repulsed by her skin not righteously furious on her behalf but then Dwarves were always full of surprises. 

When Belba re-joined the Dwarves, dressed in a bright morning dress she’d dug out of the back of her wardrobe, it was to the sight of them setting the table for breakfast despite her suspicion that none of them had slept. The Dwarves smiled at her but kept a polite distance, though their gossiping habits should bother her Belba was happy for the consideration as she still felt a bit raw around the edges. 

When the Hobbit tried to enter the kitchen however a cup of sweetened tea was placed into her hands and she was shooed by none other than Kili prince of ‘setting things randomly on fire so he didn’t have to help with the cooking rotations’. Belba eyed him suspiciously but walked away and sat in the parlour with her cup of tea, before she knew it Dwalin joined her with Frodo bouncing on his knee and playing with his braids. 

“Lad’s had a feed about an hour ago, seems raring to go and wide awake now.” The Dwarf said with a smile, handing the faunt over when Belba stretched out her arms for him. The Hobbit smiled fondly as he gurgled happily up at her and tugged painfully on her locks.

“Ah, Lassy…” Dwalin started then faltered, looking as shy as Belba had ever seen the warrior. “If it’s bothering you, I’d be happy to assist you in braiding your hair back…”

Belba gasped and felt her eyes burn even as the large Dwarf started back-peddling and stammering, to put him out of his misery Belba stood up with a bright smile, watery though it may have been, nodded and ran to her room for her mother’s brush set. In a few short moments Belba had a lap full of giggling faunt with her hair being manipulated in a complex series of familiar twists and turns by large yet surprisingly gentle Dwarven fingers. Belba honestly didn’t thinks she could be happier…

At least not until Bofur called “Breakfast!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep your comments coming! I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel! <3


	33. Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belba reaches out

Belba had a decision to make, she needed a home to raise Frodo in. Though she loved the Shire and Frodo deserved to know his heritage and his people Belba felt that she could not take the risk of raising him here while he was young enough to be taken from her. So that meant the Shire was out, and so was Bree. Beorn had been kind to her and had offered his home should she return that way but the young Hobbit did not want to impose on him permanently, she considered the Elves and Elrond’s offer of home but wondered how such a graceful people would feel with small Hobbit’s underfoot. Belba considered Erebor and discarded it, too many memories and she was still unsure of her welcome but perhaps Dale would welcome her? 

Back and forth Belba paced in the confines of her garden, she was walking about as Frodo played in the grass with Samwise Gamgee, her friend’s youngest. Hamfast and Bell had come over several times since her return to check in but both seemed much more relaxed with the arrival of the Dwarves. The Dwarves were currently out replenishing the groceries they demolished as well as planning for their return to Erebor later that week, if Belba wanted to travel with the security of a group then she would need to make her decision soon. 

Hamfast was currently pruning the hedges around Belba’s garden, while Belba paced and Bell sat with the boys. Bell’s older children had begged to accompany the Dwarves and who were they to deny everyone what they wanted and Bell a morning off. 

Belba had her chalk board with her to chat with Bell but the other Hobbit could read much from Belba’s facial expressions. 

“Belba, whatever you decide we will support you…” Belba paused in her pacing and shot Bell a look.

“Oh, don’t start with that! This is not as big a decision as you think it is. Belba your Dwarves care for you and as much as you’re trying to deny it you are itching to return to their mountain with them.” Belba shook her head but Bell would not be denied, “You’re scared, I understand that, but you can’t live your entire life in fear. What happened to you with Tobias was horrific, not something many Hobbits will understand but you are more than that. You deserve to be happy Belba and if those Dwarves make you happy then you should go…”

Belba went for her chalk board but Bell grabbed it first. 

“No Belba Baggins, you’re going to listen to me. You are not the same Hobbit you once were, you are stronger than your fear. And don’t give me that cow pat about a repeat performance, you just try comparing any one of those Dwarves with Tobias. Those Dwarves you happily send my children off with, those Dwarves you let supervise Frodo when you won’t let your own kin do so,” Bells voice went soft for a moment as she grabbed Belba’s hand “Those Dwarves that brought back the Belba Baggins I grew up with, if only for a few days.” 

Bell’s eyes were tearing up and at some point Hamfast had come up and put his hand on his wife’s shoulder in silent support.

“Belba, you’ve already made up your mind but if it’s permission you’re looking for you have it. It’s okay to leave the Shire, to make your home in Erebor with the Dwarves. You will come back in time to show Frodo the land he came from and Bag End will be waiting for you. We will make sure of it. Drogo and Prim would be so happy that their Frodo will be going with you to live a life of adventure, just as they did in their own special way.” Belba launched herself into her friend’s open arms and wept tears of sadness, joy and longing. She was filled with so much emotion at that moment that she felt she might explode, she hadn’t even known she had tears left to cry. 

X~X~X

Later that day Belba locked herself away within the confines of her study to write down a list of all the things she must do, the letters she must send and what she’d be able to pack. When she showed the list to Ori later that night with glistening eyes he whooped loudly and twirled her about as he hadn’t done in far too long. In a moment of unrestrained glee Belba laughed and for the first time, in what seemed like a silent eternity, a whisper soft bubble of sound fell from her lips. 

The pair stopped and shared twin looks of shocked surprise painted their faces as they stared at each other. Belba opened her mouth and with a hesitance built from fear and disuse she moved her mouth in the familiar motions that would form Ori’s name. The syllables that fell from her lips were cracked and broken, barely audible but they were sounds all the same. 

Body shaking with restrained excitement, face split into a toothy grin Ori leant forward and with as much control as he could muster tapped his head against Belba’s. Soon, he’d tell the others soon but for now… for now this was for them to share. Finally, his sister was beginning to heal more than her physical wounds, Ori felt ready to burst with his overflowing joy, hope and relief.


	34. Moving forward

Belba felt good to be on the road again, it felt so much different this time with her friends and family around her. Belba was able to forgo the pony ride this time and instead sat in a decent sized cart pulled by a docile pair of mares with Frodo and one of the Dwarves. The cart was filled with the belongings she could not part with, it wasn’t much but it would tide her and Frodo over in a new home and offer reminders of the Shire and their lost families. 

The rest of her belongings has been put under the careful watch of the Gamgee family, with the proviso that they fill the empty halls of Bag End with laughter and joy. Something the Smial had been lacking for far too long. Hamfast promised that the Hobbit hole would be well cared for and should she or Frodo choose to return to the Shire it would be returned to them. Belba wouldn’t know about Frodo for some time yet but she knew this would be her last journey across Middle Earth. 

As for her voice, there hadn’t been much more improvement since they left Hobbiton but Belba tried to converse softly with the Dwarves when possible but mostly relied on her familiar hand signs. It made for great secret conversations and subsequent pranks on unsuspecting Dwarves. 

The Dwarves took turns traveling in the cart with Belba and Frodo, occasionally even swapping with the Hobbit Lass so that she might stretch out and walk or ride for a while if a change of pace was in order. Frodo took the journey well in stride with minimal grizzling and general wide-eyed curiosity. The trip was much slower and smoother this time round, they stayed in towns a lot more often and took their time to ensure Frodo was comfortable and safe. Since they were travelling more trafficked roads, and in turn because of the battle everyone was trying to convince Belba they’d fought, the group saw little trouble on their way and what they did was quickly scared off by Dwalin with his eagerness to fight. 

However, by the time they reached Beorn’s halls and began their trek to the Greenwood, slowly being reclaimed by the Elves so Belba was told, the young Hobbit began to group restless and unsure. Her nervousness did not go unnoticed but it was the Durin brothers who finally acted on the collective Dwarven frustration. 

After supper, the night before they entered Green/Mirk-wood, the lads plucked Frodo from Belba’s arm’s, deposited the stunned but complacent child on Dwalin’s lap, took a Hobbity arm each and dragged Belba off a distance until they found a quiet spot far enough where they could talk. 

The lads settled themselves, and Belba by control of her arms, down into the plush grass and stared up into the open, starry night sky. Belba stopped for a moment in the quiet hush and let herself breath and appreciate the beauty of the moment. The sky above looked like a velvet quilt of the darkest navy, lit by the light of thousands of diamonds sprinkled above almost carelessly throughout the heavens. It was beautiful but before Belba could allow herself to relax fully and enjoy the moment her doubts began to creep into her mind, answers to questions unasked demanding she turn around and run from Erebor. 

In an instant, though, her mind was silenced as two warm hands reached out and took hold of her smaller ones and everything went still. 

“We’re glad you decided to come back Belba” Fili’s voice was the softest of whispers, perhaps even quieter than her own voice in its current state but her Hobbity ears could pluck each word of the gentle breeze as they floated past. 

“Erebor is lovely but it isn’t home without our family, All of our family.” Kili added and the boys accentuated his sighed words by squeezing her hands meaningfully.

Belba hesitated in voicing her fears, still buried deep within her heart but looking up at the clear sky with the familiar Dwarven warmth around her gave the Hobbit strength and her gentle whisper came across clearly in the silence. 

“…Even after what I did, you consider me family?” Belba felt the boys turn their heads to look at her but she stared straight ahead at the forgiving starts even as her eyes burned. 

“Belba, you did nothing wrong…”

“It was out own foolishness which put us in that position…”

“And if not for you we’d surely be dead…”

“It is we Dwarves who should, are and will forever continue to apologise for the way we treated you Belba…” 

“We can try to justify and excuse our behaviour while under the influence of the Gold sickness but not one of us will truly ever forgive ourselves for what we did and what we put you through…” 

“Or that we almost lost you in more ways than one…”

Belba squeezed the hands of the foolish boys laying with her in the grass and tried not to cry. 

“Stupid Dwarves” she whispered as her voice broke, “Making me so emotional… Tomorrow would you care for some help with your braids?” Before she knew it Belba was sandwiched against Fili’s warm chest with Kili at her back, the brothers hugging her closely. Where once she might have flinched or panicked Belba simply snuggled closer into their comforting heat and listened to twin heartbeats thump in a steady rhythm around her and knew she’d never felt safer or more at home.


	35. Greenwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey continues and Belba gets closer to her answers.

Belba had half expected to be sneaking through the Elven woods and battling spiders again but apparently, she was to be pleasantly disappointed. The following morning, after a surprisingly slow start to the day where Fili and Kili insisted Belba follow through with her offer, an act that did not go unnoticed by the rest of their company, as well as a hearty breakfast they were met by a small company of Elves. 

Belba thought she recognised a few of the Elves from her time spent stalking their number, especially the young blond male who stood a striking resemblance to Thranduil but her memory of those days was perhaps not as sharp as she once thought. 

“Mistress Baggins!” the blonde called with surprising emotion for an elf, if Belba didn’t know better she would almost have called it Glee… “A pleasure to see you up and awake, as opposed to last we met.” 

The Dwarves groaned softly at the poorly worded greeting while the other Elves remained silent but if Belba were a betting Hobbit then from the brief flicker across their combined faces she’d put her money on the fact that he’d been anticipating this meeting a while… fairly vocally. 

“Ugh lad she’ll have no clue who you are,” Oin tutted, and wasn’t that a strange thing for Belba to witness… Oin reprimanding an elf in a familiar and almost fond manner.

With a roll of his eyes Dwalin stepped in and explained “Belba, this lanky fool is Legolas, son of Thranduil and Prince of the slowly restoring Greenwood. He is also one of the ones we have to thank for you still being with us Lass.”

Belba felt her eyes widen and her mouth drop open in a soft O. 

“Belba has limited memories of Erebor,” Bofur advised, as Ori wrapped his arm protectively around Belba’s shoulders. “Not much since the incident with the Arkenstone, we ask that you don’t push her as she recovers…” The Elves nodded slowly, something close to sympathy in their eyes but before more could be said a faint whining indicated that Frodo through with being overlooked. 

To the apparent amazement of the Elves, Belba pulled away the fabric of her cloak and outer dress to reveal the soft fabric hammock that cradled Frodo to her chest while fiving her free use of her arms. It had surprised the Dwarves too but it was common practice for Hobbits to continue working with multiple faunts running around, free arms were a necessity… 

Or perhaps it was the size of the child which drew their attentions because even as Belba pulled Frodo out to stare at the world with his piercing blue eyes they continued to stare. 

“This is Frodo Baggins” supplied Fili with an affectionate wiggle of his fingers as Frodo reached out to him. 

“Belba’s nephew and now adopted son.” Finished Kili with a pout when the lad practically vaulted himself into his brother’s arms. Frodo had been doing that lately, much to Belba’s dismay, though the Dwarves didn’t seem to mind it as they had all had a go at being Frodo’s favourite.

“A Hobbit child, how… extraordinary.” Came the voice of one of the other Elves and Frodo turned to look at the owner of the voice. His eyes widened upon seeing the Elves and he reached out for Legolas immediately. Fili squawked as Frodo dived unexpectedly out of his arms but was easily caught by the woodland Prince, Belba sighed as Fili immediately began to complain and Frodo began tugging on silky Elven hair.

“Spoilt rotten, the lot of you.” she whispered affectionately as the group prepared to move on, Frodo refusing to leave the arms of his new Elven friend much to Dwarven disappointment. 

X~X~X

Belba had expected to be escorted through the forest and be on the other side within a few days, their journey continuing and bringing her closer still to Erebor and the tightening knot in her abdomen. 

What she had not expected, though perhaps she could be forgiving considering the last time she’d been through Mirkwood, was to become a guest of Lord Thranduil and to spend a week in his care.

The young Hobbit was not complaining, not by any means. The journey had been long and hard despite the gentle pace and added comforts their last trek had not afforded them, but travelling as a Hobbit was never as comfortable as staying in ones smial not to mention the strain of a young child. Frodo was just hitting one of his growth spurts now that he was approaching his first birthday, that meant he was crawling, if the strange body drag he managed when not scooped up by worried Dwarves could be called such, and beginning to explore but also eating more than any but a Hobbit could understand. Frodo was stocking food, just as any faunt his age would, and soon he would be hitting his growing period and begin fussing. This part would not be comfortable for the lad with growing pains, teething beyond the four milk teeth he already sported and finally the burning itch as his foot hair would begin to grow. It was perfectly normal but not something Belba wanted the lad to start when already journey tired and uncomfortable so she took the respite that was offered. 

Though she tried not to get too upset when her nephew was spirited away by doting Elves, he was always returned to her in the evenings for bedtime well fed and gurgling happily. 

Belba knew that Frodo should be starting to speak now, moving beyond his happy gurgles and noises to produce hybrid words which would make sense only to himself and those closest to him but he was not yet doing so and Belba blamed herself and her silence for his delay. This was another reason she was happy for the lad to spend time with more vocal Elves and Dwarves, to hopefully fill the lack she had created. 

This was how he, King of the Woodland realm, found her, a small and broken creature filled with a dimming fire. Thanduil looked around the gardens she’d found solace in, a fitting place which he often frequented when thoughts of his lost Queen became too much. It wasn’t a garden as most other creatures might envision, it had not the flowers which men preferred nor the lush, leafy, artistic foliage his cousins sculpted. It certainly was not a garden of stone as the Dwarves cultivated but he found it soothing no the less. 

This garden, something he had fashioned years ago was once a beautiful woodland oasis with wild roses and ivy. The trees formed a natural clearing and within he had sun the branches into the form of a bench. In a simpler time, he would sit with his love and listen to the forest whisper around them, after her loss he’d found it harder to tolerate the simple beauty of the place. Overtime the forest had shared his grief and taken back his garden, turned it into something more wild and natural. His bench had been taken over by the ivy and roses, with thorns threatening those who thought to carelessly rest there. The branches had curled and returned to the sky with a darker leaf than they once bore. Enough sun entered through the canopy to allow one to see but it was never sunny. The Hobbit was not sitting on the bench but beside it with her back leaning against the firm wall of ivy, her eyes were closed and she seemed to be listening for something when Thranduil entered the garden, he could see from the slight tensing of her frame and the twitch of her pointed ear that she was aware of his presence but she did not open her eyes even as he sat on the bench confident that the roses would not harm him. 

“They have missed you…” The Hobbit said after some time in silence, Thranduil did not need to ask to know she meant the trees and plants within his garden, they were singing to him with such longing that he regretted his long absence. 

“Just so.” He responded in time, he had heard that Hobbits had Yavanna’s gift and a special connection with her children but he had not seen in first hand. There was a lot of mystery regarding these small, seemingly fragile creatures which even Thranduil’s long memory could not diffuse. Though perhaps this small Hobbit might provide some of the answers.


	36. The Elven King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil.... Less of an arse than usual...

Belba found the Elven King’s continued presence confusing but not unpleasant. Thranduil was quiet in a way the Dwarves could never truly manage, his thoughtful presence filling a room and yet Belba did not feel as threatened by it as she thought she should. It has been explained to her that she owed the Elves, particularly Thranduil and Legolas, her life following the battle she could not and would not remember though each time she attempted to open her mouth in thanks a look from the ancient Elf would still her tongue and so they simply sat in silence until Belba was called away by either Dwarf or Faunt. 

It wasn’t until Belba brought Frodo with her to the garden, and the faunt was surprisingly spirited away from her arms by the stoic Elf that she began to understand their unspoken companionship. 

“You fight your fading well, such strong will in such a small being.” He commented softly as the elf held Frodo, the faunt looking tiny in Thranduil’s long arms. 

“It is easier when you have something to fight for. You are familiar with the fading?” Their tones were light but there was a hidden weight to their words as neither took their eyes from the grinning child. 

“I lost my heart to it, the mother of my own son.” Belba nodded, memories of her own mother’s loss weighting her tongue with a heaviness she would never be prepared for. 

“I lost my mother to it, she fought as long as she could but in turn she followed my father. You do not seem to be planning to follow her.” 

“I cannot, my duty is to the Greenwood and to my son…” Frodo was playing happily with Thranduil’s long tresses but the Elf seemed more at peace than Belba could ever say to have seen him. “Just as I have been kept here, so too might you. Keep fighting young Hobbit, and one day you may find you no longer need to.” 

Belba looked at the Elf in shock, her mouth to argue because all Hobbit knew that a fading could only be delayed at best but the Elven King simply deposited Frodo into her arms with a knowing glint in his eyes and his lips lifted the barest of hints. 

“If fate does not pan out the way you are hoping with the Dwarves, you are welcome here Ms Baggins. My forest enjoys your presence here, I do hope you will visit even if you chose to remain in Erebor.” Belba nodded numbly as Thranduil floated away in the way only he seemed able to while her thoughts ran rampart. 

Belba had always believed, as all Hobbits did, that the only freedom she would ever find from this growing numbness and ache within her, the all-consuming void of painful nothing, was when the fading finally took its toll and she passed back into the arms of the Green Lady but if Thranduil’s cryptic clues were true than perhaps her truth was not the Only truth…


	37. Dale

They stayed with the Elves a week, long enough for them to rest and Frodo to win enough hearts that Belba need never fear her Nephew being without support should she leave him. Though not so long as to risk the Dwarves rekindling old arguments and risking new alliances, much to Belba’s relief and amusement. From there they bypassed the remnants of Laketown and began their trek to Dale, though the ruins Belba remembered were long since swallowed by a new evolving township. Belba tried to focus on her amazement and the joyous welcome they received and not the shadow of Erebor looming over them, a heavy weight on her mind even as Bard and his family greeted them as one would kin. Belba found herself embraced by Bard’s daughter who immediately began to gush over Frodo and rushed to tell her all she had missed as they dragged her away to their new home leaving the males behind to stare in resigned amazement. 

It amazed Belba how much the girls, and their brother when she eventually saw the lad, had grown in what felt like such a small amount of time. They were settling well into their new roles within the running of Dale and were able to give Belba much needed closure regarding the happiness and peace that their people had now found. They chatted with Belba as she bathed Frodo, stole the faunt away so she could have a soak herself and gave the Hobbit-lass the female companionship she’d been missing for longer than she realised. 

However before long the sun went down, dinner was devoured, ale was drunk and faunts were put to bed. They only planned to stay the one night and yet Belba found herself reluctant to leave Dale, her heart still heavy and fear lingering despite the evidence to the contrary. Belba was trying so hard to be brave but she couldn’t stop the doubts that lingered, especially in the dark of the night as she looked up at the bare ceiling and listened to Frodo’s soft snuffling snores. 

What if she was wrong? What if Thorin took one look at her and cast her out? What if he didn’t? What would she do in Erebor, a lone Hobbit in a Mountain of Dwarves? What about Frodo, will he be accepted? He’s so small and Erebor so large, what if he gets lost…

These and other thoughts spun around and around Belba’s mind even as the sun rose in the distance and cast the room into a warm golden glow. Belba knew it was too late for doubts, that in a few hours she’d be face to face (or chest and shoulders as the case tended to be) with Thorin Oakenshield, King under the bloody Mountain. In a fleeting moment of peace Belba let her mind settle on the thought of Thorin, something she had not allowed herself to do since waking at Beorn’s home not within the halls of Erebor. 

The memories of the rampart were there, of course they were, as were his harsh words throughout the journey but what caught and held Belba were not these words said in anger, nor his grateful embrace on the Carrock but rather whispered conversations in the Darkness of an Elven dungeon. Discussions of fear and madness, or family and pain. Truth shared between them in a way Belba couldn’t explain, a trust forged in the darkness which lit hope within her even now. Because in those hours Thorin had been genuine and exposed as she, vulnerable in a way neither was accustomed to or prepared for. Though they had never spoken about it after Mirkwood there had been a change in Thorin, a softness and understanding within his eyes once they again tasted freedom. Belba truly hoped that it was that look she saw in Thorin’s eyes when they met again, not the pain of betrayal and devastation she’d seen there when he dropped her even his rage would have been better than that.


	38. To find the perfect words…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check in with Thorin

Thorin paced back and forth within his chambers as he had all night, he’s received word from Dale that their Hobbit had returned and would be in Erebor this very day and so Thorin, the fearless leader that he was, way petrified. Little information had been provided other than the Hobbits had arrived, and hadn’t that been a shock “Hobbits” in the plural. Thorin should have known that a lass as wonderful as Belba wouldn’t remain a widow for long, that she would return with her new spouse both irritated and pleased the King under the mountain. Pleased him that it indicated she intended and extended stay, he dare not hope for permanency, but frustrated and irritated him more than it should because how could any male, Hobbit, Dwarf, Man or Elf, every truly appreciate Belba Baggins for the Wonder of Middle Earth that she was. 

Which brought Thorin back to reason for his pacing, in a few short hours Belba would be in Erebor and as King it was his responsibility to welcome all guests… but this wasn’t a guest this was Belba Bloody Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield, King of Grumpiness (according to his sister and nephews) had no idea what in Mahal’s name to say. Balin had been of no help, offering passages from old political text and speeches of old, Dis had merely laughed and called him emotionally constipated… again… Gloin shook his head and went into recounting his hour long speech to his beloved on her return to the mountain until Thorin walked away. Dori had been the most helpful so far, reminding Thorin that Hobbits were not ones for grand gestures and pointed out that he was welcoming Belba with a new coat to combat the Mountain’s chill. Thorin had nodded and considered what else he knew of Hobbits, a grand feast was already planned, it went without saying, but that was not personal enough. Thorin did not want to Welcome Belba merely as King of Durin’s folk but as Thorin Oakenshield, the Dwarrow she’d once trusted who’d been a fool and cast her out. 

How could he show his regret for his action and his joy at her return without looking a bumbling fool? So Thorin continued to pace even as the sun rose and the bells began to call the hour, he paced even as Balin arrived to discuss the mornings appointments and he lectured Thorin over his ill-disguised distraction. At some point he washed and dressed for the new day, though he had no memory of it, and saw to his hair and growing beard. It was as he braided his thickening beard he finally understood what he might do to show Belba the depths of his regret, some might frown on his decision but even as he tied off the braid he knew it was the right one. Not a grand gesture in the world of Hobbits but he hoped that Belba would understand all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so Belba returns to Erebor in the next chapter... At this point the final chapter. I'm still toying with the idea of a sequel or a continuation but for now I feel it's a good fit so please stay tuned for that chapter.


	39. To Erebor to meet a King…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final (at this stage) chapter of Not So Harmless and the much anticipated reunion. Thanks for sticking with me!

Belba dressed slowly that morning, she blamed it on her poor night’s sleep but in truth her thoughts were elsewhere which is why she happily allowed Sigrid and Tilda to descend on her trunks and find her something ‘appropriate’ to wear while Ori did her hair. She tried to draw the line when the girls insisted on her wearing makeup, something she’d never done in her life, but one look at the heavy bags under her eyes made her relent and let the young women do as they pleased. By the end of their efforts Belba almost didn’t recognise herself. 

Tilda had picked out a lovely deep blue dress with silver trim, one that Belba didn’t remember owning and had a sinking suspicion the girl had conjured up from thin air. The dress was simple in design but was made of a soft yet sturdy material with a long wide skirt and matching sleeves. The dress had sleeves which fell comfortably to Belba’s elbows and a modest neckline, though the girls refused to acknowledge it as such she thanked them for the gift non-the-less. Ori, at the girls recommendation and because he was wise enough to know not to argue, had left most of Belba’s hair down to curl naturally at her back but he had braided the hair at her temples behind her ears and into a circlet at the back of her head, it was simple yet elegant as was the makeup Sigrid applied sparingly. 

In the end, even Belba agreed she looked ready to meet a King, even if she’d been no wear near so well dressed when she’d met him the first time or any time since… The girls simply shushed her by grabbing her hands which Ori translated and hurried her to the waiting company and ponies. It was a short ride to Erebor’s gates from Dale but the moments dragged as Belba sat with Frodo in the cart, even the youngest of their groups having been snuck gifts in the form of a new blanket and a beautifully carvel mountain goat which Bifur kept eyeing critically. 

The gates loomed before them as Frodo sat in her lap and stared with his wide blue eyes gurgling in his unique excited way, Belba smile despite the lead in her stomach at the site of not only the repaired gates but the countless Dwarrow milling around them. Belba considered a moment the changes Erebor had undergone in what was truthfully a small amount of time but as they passed through the gates and silence fell around them Belba was brought back to reality of being a Hobbit in a mountain of Dwarrow. 

Belba carefully tucked Frodo into her side, his weight on her hip grounding her as the cart stopped before the stone step which led into the mountain. The Hobbit didn’t know what she’d expected but to look up at those steps into the cerulean eyes of Thorin Oakenshield had not been it, she wasn’t quite ready for the flood of emotion which filled her. From the moment she’d met him Belba had been captured by Thorin’s eyes and their expressions, often the only ones he had. Even now she saw relief and peace in his eyes as Dwalin lifted her and Frodo down from the cart and gently placed her onto the cobblestone path. Thorin stood regal and silent with Balin at one side and a Dwarrowdam at his other. For a moment Belba considered that maybe he’d married but one look at the female and the strong familial resemblance put an end to such ideas. 

That and the way Fili and Kili launched themselves into her arms with a shared cry of “Amad”.

Unsure of what to do Belba stayed put until Bifur linked his arm through her free one and led her up the stairs to stand with Thorin. Belba knew that they had an audience, knew that around them the company and other milling Dwarrow had grown still and silent to see what was about to happen. 

Before Belba could do much as blink though Throin had unsheathed a small but clearly sharp blade from his side and dropping to a single knee he offered it to her much to the astonishment of those around him, including Belba. 

“Tho-Your Majesty…” Belba whispered worriedly looking from Thorin to Balin and anyone who might know what the daft Dwarrow was up to. 

Balin looked ready to strangle his leader, Thorin’s sister appeared to be trying not to laugh while many of the other surrounding Dwarrow simply watched on in open mouthed horror. 

“Take the blade Belba…” Bifur whispered into Belba’s ear and on reflex she did with her eyes stuck on Thorin. 

“Belba Baggins,” Thorin began, his eyes cast to the ground and his own empty hand falling over his heart. “Rescuer of foolish Dwarrow and hero of Erebor, when last you were here I treated you dishonourably and to show the depth of my regret I offer you my beard.” 

A shocked gasp came from the crowd and a strangled cry of “Thorin…” From Balin even as Belba dropped the dagger in surprise. 

“If it is not enough the take my hair too, I would accept a shearing happily if it came with your forgiveness…” Belba looked around for someone who might help her but all refused to make eye contact with the panicking Hobbit, all but Ori who walked slowly to Belba’s side and plucked Frodo from her arms. 

‘What is he doing Ori? Make him stand up…’ Belba signed to her adopted brother even as she looked from him to the still kneeling Thorin. 

“I can’t do that Belba, only you can. You know what beards, braids and hair mean to us, but this show of humility and respect goes even deeper than that.” Belba looked at Ori questioningly but it was Balin who began to explain. 

“Belba, King Thorin has taken a knee before you and offered you a blade. If you so choose you could not only shear him but kill him, this is a very serious display made by a very repentive fool.” The last part was said only so that those closest could hear but Belba finally understood and with shaking hands she knelt down and picked up the dagger only to reach forward and guide it back into its sheath and Thorin’s waist. The King flinched at the sound but did not move, not until Belba guided him to look her in the eyes with a gentle hand on each furred cheek. 

“Thorin Oakenshield…” she whispered, soft voice breaking with emotion as her eyes stung with tears. “Stand up you great fool, I do not want you to kneel before me nor do I want your beard. Your life means nothing to me if you are not living it, have you not learnt that by now?”

“… But what I did…” Thorin spat out the words with confusion and self-loathing which only made Belba’s heart ache further; this was not the Dwarf who had hurt her, who had reminded her of her abusive husband. This was the Dwarf she’d followed to a dragon’s doorstep, this was the Dwarf who shared secrets with her in the dark of the Mirkwood Dungeons, this was the Thorin she trusted and it was like a vice released within her chest and Belba was able to breathe again. 

“What you did broke my heart and betrayed my trust,” Thorin flinched despite the gentle sadness of her words “and if you ever do it again I will take my own dagger and ensure it never happens again.”

There was steel in Belba’s voice as she made her promise, there was no doubt in her mind that if the Dwarf raised his hand against her again she would not hesitate to strike out. What did surprise her though was Thorin’s nod, as though he expected nothing less. 

Ever so gently Belba dropped her forehead against Thorin’s in a Dwarvish sign of affection, her voice dropped low for only his ears. 

“You have offered me your life and I am choosing to give it back to you. Choosing to give you the chance to spend it wisely and prove that I have not made a mistake in trusting you one more.” 

“I won’t waste this chance Belba, I will do everything in my power to prove to you every day that I am a better Dwarf. That your trust is not wasted on me.” Thorin said soberly, and Belba found herself hoping, with a bright warmth in her heart, that he would do exactly that. 

“Then it’s time to get to your feet oh King Under the Mountain, and let your actions speak for you”

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has stuck with me through this, I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have. Please let me know your thoughts and feelings on the ending. Originally I didn't intend to stop it here so I have held off posting (it's been written for weeks...) but it seemed to come to a natural conclusion at this point.... 
> 
> Once again I'd love to hear from you <3


	40. Back by popular demand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I give up!

Alright, I give in! I will continue this story. I had some issues moving forward with this story but now that life had settled down a bit and I have re-read it I agree the ending was a bit abrupt soooo watch this space, this story is not yet finished...


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